I'll be right back
by Xdaisy chainX
Summary: Joe's off to Bayport Central Hospital for a routine bout of physiotherapy...but when the lights go dark and the guns start shooting will he manage to keep himself out of trouble? An older Hardys fic. (Follows on vaguely from my first Hardy Boys story 'Stan').
1. Chapter 1

So I'm back! It's been a while (a lot longer than I realised). I had a niggle of just a plot point in my mind the other day and as I sat to get it on 'paper' a whole story rushed out...well not the whole thing. It's about two thirds done but I couldn't wait to publish the first chapter. I'm going to aim for a new chapter every 1-3 days (I have real world life stuff these days so I can't always find time to just sit and write for hours). I went home home to visit my family last week and we had no internet which is why I managed to get so much down at once.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the ride!

* * *

Joe winced a little as he massaged the shoulder of the arm he was using to steer his van. The dull aching inside the tissues now seemed as if it had always been a feature of his, so long had he had to deal with it. He blinked a little rapidly as his hand pressed the point where the bullet had exited his shoulder a little over three months ago, eliciting a suddenly sharper pain and causing him to gasp a little.

The bullet had come from the gun of a madman hell bent on exacting a misguided but, in his mind, well earned revenge against Joe's father, Fenton Hardy. A vital component of the team formed specifically to take down the New York based gang said madman was sitting at the helm of. A madman by the name of Stan.

Just thinking of Stan sent shudders down Joe's spine. Shudders which triggered slight spasms in his shoulder muscle and compounded the overall percussion show of ache his injured limb was so kindly putting on for him. Joe instinctively brought his hand up again to rub at the muscle in a vain attempt to ease off the pain. He'd fired one of his easy trademark grins at Vanessa that morning when she'd worriedly asked how he was feeling after catching him wince from the corner of her eye. She had been his rock over the past few months whilst he and his brother, Frank, had been mostly out of action on down time healing. Frank hadn't faired too well in the concluding battles of their last case either and both men had been sternly sidelined by Fenton who wouldn't hear of them doing anything more strenuous than picking up a pen until doc said otherwise.

Vanessa had been there from the beginning, from treating his wounds for him in the early days of bed rest when even attempting to feed himself had left him weak as a kitten and unable to string two thoughts together, right through to the infuriating Joe Hardy bored and restless stage which would try almost anyone's patience. Anyone, seemingly, but Vanessa. Being with Joe over the years had taught her a thing or two and one of the signs she had learned to look out for was the macho 'I'm fine, no really' point in the process...whereby Joe would be furiously repeating how ok he felt right before passing out through sheer stubbornness to accept he was feeling less than one hundred per cent.

Which is why over breakfast that morning she had been watching him closely without him realising and had noticed him wincing when he'd reached for more juice.

"Are you sure you're ok?" she'd asked, leaning across their breakfast bar and covering the hand he laid on the surface.

"Of course I am," he'd answered her after a blinding grin erased all creases of pain from his face "I told you, I'm Iron Man."

"Of course you are dear," Vanessa replied, grinning in spite of her exasperation "what time is your appointment today?"

Joe had rolled his eyes at this reminding her entirely of the seventeen year old she'd met all those years ago who still apparently had the tendency to rear his head.

"Eleven thirty. Doc says I shouldn't have to go to too many more sessions and I'll be right as rain." Joe felt a little guilty at this little white lie. He'd had to attend twice weekly physiotherapy sessions at the hospital ever since the shooting and subsequent surgery in order to build up the muscles which had been damaged by the bullet, and also to improve his arms mobility. These sessions had progressed to weekly and finally every two weeks until his previous one where Doctor Edwards had mentioned the possibility of stopping them altogether...in his mind a possibility. In Joe's mind a definitive.

"Oh really?" Vanessa had replied, a touch of worry in her voice "he really thinks you're nearly done?"

"Hey, babe, Iron Man. Remember?" Joe replied, lifting the hand she was holding into the air to flex his arm. The effect ruined slightly when his shoulder muscle spasmed causing him to wince a little more.

Joe grinned to himself a little at the memory as he absent-mindedly massaged a little harder at the persistent ache. Doctor Edwards had sat him down during one of their seemingly endless sessions and had explained that though the wound was completely healed, there would likely be some scar tissue build up throughout the muscle which would be with him for life. The majority of the pain associated with the injury would go away in time but it was more than likely that it would either flare up on occasions of high stress activity, or even in apparently unprovoked cases.

News of chronic pain might have dismayed some people but Joe had a stubborn nature which leant itself well to situations such as these. Rather than dwelling on the possibility, he had already compartmentalised it and decided it was something he would work through regardless. An achey shoulder wouldn't hold back Joe Hardy. He'd mentioned it in passing to Frank during one of their ritual beer and pizza nights which had a tendency to last into the wee hours. Nights which had become a little more commonplace during the weeks when both detectives had had a lot less to do and a lot more time to do it in. His reaction had been somewhat predictable.

"What?! As in, for life?" Frank had replied to his brother's nonchalant summary of the situation.

"Yeah, maybe," Joe had said, already shrugging it off.

"But...I mean how bad does it hurt?" Frank had asked eyeing his brother intently knowing all too well that he would instinctively be playing down the situation having already labelled it a minor hiccup.

"These days? Not much," Joe had replied almost truthfully "I mean...it catches me off guard once in a while but.."

Frank had settled back into his chair at this point. A grim expression marring his dark features and anger quietly blazing behind his eyes. Anger which, though concealed to all but those who knew him intently, was all but too apparent to Joe.

"What?"

"It's just Stan. I'm angry I never got the proper chance to end that sonuvabitch."

Joe had eyed up his brother sombrely at that moment. Frank was forever the more logic of the pair but he lost any semblance of reason when concerning his baby brother. A trait which Joe understood all too well. The chilling words, made all the more menacing behind the mask of nearly healed bruises and the angry forehead scar inflicted by Stan's mentally challenged accomplice, were words which Joe's entire being resonated with.

"I'm just glad you were as there as you were." Joe replied earnestly.

Though Fenton had been the one to finally bring the shark eyed lunatic to an end, Frank had thrown everything he had at Stan, literally, when he was on the brink of passing out himself in a desperate attempt to save his brother's life when he'd been staring down the barrel of a gun. An attempt which, thankfully, had worked.

Frank didn't have to reply to the sentiment. Both brothers knew they'd each make the ultimate sacrifice in a second if it meant securing the well being of the other. A harsh fact but one which had been grudgingly accepted as truth a long time ago. He'd eased back into the plush armchair and clinked his beer against Joe's raised drink in a grim but acknowledged toast.

Joe scanned the area for spaces as he eased his van into the entrance of the parking lot. One of the things he'd found increasingly frustrating over the passing weeks was the endless lack of parking spaces for the hospital. Come rain or shine, no matter what time of the day his appointments fell.

Finally eyeing up a space, he killed the engine before hopping out the door and locking it with a click as he headed deep into the bowels of the building before him entirely on autopilot. He'd been here so often over the years, and especially recently, he knew the layout intimately. He snorted mirthlessly as he thought about just how many members of staff knew both him and Frank by sight these days.

Finally reaching the physio department he had a brief word with Mary on reception after she buzzed him in and took his seat. Normally he would have chatted with Mary for a little longer but he was lost in the memories of the past weeks and she was busy hen pecking her way around the young team of receptionists she was in charge of. Mary was a matronly lady of thick and short stature who had worked at the hospital more years than she cared to remember and who had a particularly soft spot for both of the Hardys. Despite obviously having her hands full with her charges, she still looked up from the stack of papers she was furiously shuffling through to fire a twinkling smile at Joe. A smile he returned in kind before turning to sit.

The waiting room itself was small and unassuming with several doors and a few wards within view of the seats. Joe absent-mindedly scanned the room, lazily taking in details. A habit born of his profession and not one he even acknowledged these days. There were few people alongside him also obviously waiting for their names to be called. Some with noticeable walking aids hinting as to why they were waiting for their turn. Some, like himself, who on first glance seemed fine.

There was the usual flurry of activity on the sidelines and in the background of the room. Nurses and porters flying in and out of sight on their singular, all consuming missions. Joe's eyes narrowed slightly as his roaming gaze picked up on a couple of people who seemed to be carved of stone so still were they against this fury of motion. A couple of security guards, slumped in their chairs with boredom but still scanning the room with alert eyes, were sitting outside a secluded, tiny room of a ward whose curtains had been drawn obviously to stop wandering eyes. Joe cocked his eyebrow at the guys and their unconcealed guns before mentally shrugging off the sight and continuing his lazy pan of the room. It was more than likely someone requesting police presence for some reason or other during their stay in the hospital.

Joe jumped slightly when his name was finally called. He'd finished his surveillance of the room and settled into his seat for the long wait, allowing his mind to wander once again. He stood up and walked towards the smiling, petite brunette figure of Doctor Edwards assistant, Abigail.

"Hi Abbie," Joe said with a nod. Abigail had been a fixture during his sessions since part way through his first month of physio. She was practically vibrating with a keen energy that could only come from someone who was new to a profession and raring to go.

"Hey Joe, sorry for the wait, Doctor Edwards has had a busy morning."

"No problem Abbie, let's get this show on the road."

Joe smiled to himself as Abigail turned and practically bounded towards the good Doctor's office. Her diminutive height was in stark contract to the well formed muscle of what little of her arms showed in her uniform. She might have been small but it would be foolish to assume she was also weak.

Entering the office, Joe saw Doctor Edwards was eye deep in the paper work of the last patient.

"Take a seat Joe, I'll be with you in a moment."

Joe sat down as Abigail crossed the room to the corner she usually occupied during his sessions. Doctor Edwards signed a final sheet of paper with a flourish and turned to survey the young man before him. Easily in his fifties with salt and pepper hair, he had a strong jawline and a physique which bore a whisper of super fitness in youth which had been left to grow old gracefully. His dark eyes were quick to twinkle and he often reminded Joe of Fenton during the times when he had snapped in frustration in his earlier appointments as his renowned impatience had won out in the battle of wills. Doc Edwards had barely blinked in response at his raging charge before him and instead had quickly adapted to Joe's changing mood finding new ways to encourage his progress.

"Right so, how are we doing today?" he asked with a quick smile.

"Same old I guess," Joe replied, lifting his hand to touch his shoulder without realising "I mean the pain's still there but it does ease off quicker these days."

"Good, good," Doc Edwards replied nodding and standing up from his seat "mind if I take a look?"

Joe walked towards the doctor, easing up his shirt so it exposed the still pink scarring left by the bullet. Doctor Edwards laid a hand over it and also at Joe's back where it had exited just above the shoulder blade. Getting Joe to move his arm around he assessed the roaming muscles under his skin, all the while watching Joe from the corner of his eye to check for any signs of discomfort.

Taking a step back he cocked his head to survey the scar in all it's glory. Opening his mouth with the obvious intent at laying out what the rest of the appointment would entail, he was distracted by the sudden dimming of the lighting in the room. He looked up with a cocked eyebrow at the ceiling light before turning his head towards his computer which had abruptly flicked off.

"Odd..." he said as the ceiling lights flickered once again.

The three of them whipped their heads towards the closed door of the office when a loud noise which was unmistakeably a gunshot ripped through the persistent background hum of hospital sounds.

Torn from his reverie by the screams of the people outside, Joe pulled his shirt back on and made to make towards the door when the room was plunged into a sudden darkness. The screams continued in parallel to the complete silence of the office and the shocked occupants inside. Silence which Abigail broke.

"They're here."

* * *

Okey dokey then! Off on a new adventure.

All comments and critiques welcome as usual.

Sarah


	2. Chapter 2

Frank leaned back into his office chair bringing one foot up and resting it across the knee of his other leg. Putting his arms behind his head he eased into a stretch before settling back into the seat and staring off into the distance. He was bored. Thoroughly and mind numbingly so. Following the weeks of rest his father had insisted on, Frank had been allowed to work his way back into Hardy and Sons on a very slow and easy basis. Starting from the barest hint of paperwork and finally progressing back into the field. Into the field in the most basic sense of the term however. The bread and butter jobs of the agency. Mostly stake outs.

As much as his little brother drove him to distraction on such assignments, Frank had to concede that his unrelenting banter was one of the things which had made them bearable. Sitting alone in a car watching closed doorways for activity were some of the longest hours of his life. Joe was only at the paperwork point of the progression trail, Fenton had stressed that he was tethered to the office until he'd advanced with his physiotherapy. At least he brought some colour to the office, albeit becoming unbearable when the long hours of computer work finally sapped him of all productivity and reduced him to being no more than a six foot annoyance. However, with his father away visiting friends with their mother and Joe at the hospital he'd found himself once again alone but this time surrounded by the piles of paperwork that were the hangover of the boys taking time out to recuperate. Never ending but essential paperwork. The kind that couldn't be ignored any longer.

He rolled his shoulders some before leaning forward to grab his coffee cup. His now empty coffee cup. It was a mark of how bored he was that the task of brewing more coffee suddenly turned into a highlight of his afternoon. Standing by the machine as it chugged to life he leant over and switched on their old but trusty radio, wincing slightly as the loud, thrashing rock music of Joe's favourite station blared out into the previous silence. Turning the volume down low, he switched the dial trying to find a station playing something a little more mellow. Finally coming to a nondescript classical station, he turned the volume up a little louder so the soothing sound of some string instrument or other filled the empty silence of the room. Filling his coffee cup he crossed the floor and settled himself back into his chair, sighing a little and flexing his fingers before resting them back onto the key board.

Half an hour passed quickly without much notice as he ploughed straight into the mountain of documents all vying for attention, until his concentration was broken from the relaxation of the nothing music by the now harsh sounding voice of the station's newscaster.

"And now to the news. A breaking report this lunch time from the Bayport hospital..."

Frank flicked from being mildly annoyed by the interruption to fixing his full attention onto the reporter's voice. A slight warning light beginning to niggle the back of his mind.

"...Word from the scene of a possible hostage situation and reports of gunfire. The parking lot is filling with the evacuated patients and staff from inside the hospital. Our man on the ground Jeff Blaine is there to give us details. Jeff?"

"Thank you Stephen," Jeff's voice came in loud but broken by the noises of sirens and what sounded like a large group of people "Much confusion right now as people are attempting to subdue what remains a largely panicked crowd. Reports of possible gunfire inside the building have triggered safety precautions throughout the hospital with anyone and everyone able to move being evacuated. I'm surrounded by staff, workers and patients and their families. No one seems to know what's happening at this early time but there is a large police presence including a first response swat team who are deployed automatically whenever there is a possibility of arms at a scene. We'll try to get hold of whoever is in charge and get official word on..."

Frank didn't catch the last of the report as he grabbed his car keys from the table near the door and threw it closed behind him cutting off the sound.

* * *

Joe instinctively crouched into an easy fighter's stance as soon as the lights had gone black. The hair on his arms stood on end at Abigail's words.

"_They're here_."

In the confusion of screaming and noise outside of the office, she had somehow silently crossed the room and exited the door. Joe had strode to where she had been standing vigil, after her words indicated she knew something of what was going on, and found nothing but empty air.

"What the heck Doc?" he whispered to Doctor Edwards, angling his body to where he had left the frozen man standing. The physio ward was deep within the building, far away from the kiss of natural light, so when everything had gone dark it hadn't been kidding around. Waiting for his eyes to adjust, Joe's muscles tensed when he didn't hear any response.

"Doc!"

"I...I don't know," came the doctor's shaky voice from out of the darkness.

Joe let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as the blurry form of the doctor made itself known to him. Shapes began appearing from the darkness as his pupils dilated drinking in any and all sources of light, minute as they were.

"OK, first things first," Joe began, easily switching to professional mode without much thought and keeping his tone flat and even so as to wake the doctor from his stupor, "this is a hospital. Assuming whoever this is has gotten to the main system and shut down the lighting, there must be some sort of back up generator which will kick in soon right?"

"I don't..." began Doctor Edwards, before obviously shaking himself out of it "I, yes there must be. The power has never been out since I've been here but protocol is to have generators in place for emergencies."

Almost in answer to his point, there was a hum of power and the small light in the centre of the room flicked into life. It cast a cool, white, ethereal light over the room serving only to bring out even more of the paleness of the shocked doctor's face before him. His eyes were bugging out of their sockets and he had zero colour in his cheeks.

Joe shied away from the light. Even though it was a tiny amount it still seemed bright as the sun for a hot second to pupils which had adjusted to the extreme darkness. Looking back towards Doctor Edwards, he stepped forward and grasped his shoulders before pushing him firmly to the examination bed in the corner of the office.

"Sit," he said to the man who obviously needed a minute to process what was happening before striding across the room to the office door.

The loud screams and scrambling of earlier had died down to a low rumble of mumbling as people attempted to work out what was going on, interspersed with the sounds of women crying and sniffles from the crowd. Joe cracked the door slightly and scanned the room in front of him.

The ghostly light was prevalent throughout the waiting area and he had to strain his eyes through the small gap to try to figure out what was going on. A loud voice close to the door made him jump slightly as it boomed out instructions.

"SIT DOWN!" a male yelled, with the obvious twang of a New York accent "DON'T MAKE ME USE THIS."

Joe crouched lower, pushing the door closer to disguise the already tiny crack as the owner of the loud voice crossed in front of Doctor Edwards' office. Though he was mainly one dark outline against the white light, it was obvious that he was toting some sort of large, automatic weapon. Dark shapes suddenly started appearing into view as they huddled the group of people into the middle of the room onto the standard issue hospital chairs. Hot damn those were uncomfortable chairs, and Joe had spent more time than he cared to remember sitting in them over the previous months.

He shook his head to clear his wandering thoughts realising for the first time that his pulse was hammering in his ears. He forced himself to take a calming breath and felt it lessen somewhat as he cooly began taking stock of the bad guys. There seemed to be at least five beefy shadows standing around the herd of people. From their shapes in the darkness it seemed obvious that they were all carrying weapons and wearing several layers of protection.

"So this was planned," thought Joe. Mentally adding notes to a list he had began in his mind that he could consider as he scanned the room.

Suddenly one of the men who was sitting within the group of around twenty people panicked and made as if to run past one of the guards. Without much preamble the shape viciously brought the grip of his weapon down across the man's face. He hit the deck with a boneless crunch, blood streaming down onto the floor. The action brought on another wave of confusion and panic, several people yelling and screaming as they jostled to move away from the guards, the man on the floor and each other.

"ENOUGH!" the first man boomed, bringing his weapon up and loosening several shots into the ceiling raining plaster all around them. The action served to stop the jostling as the crowd instinctively froze where they were, sniffling and coughing in the dust.

"You will stay here until I say so. If anyone tries a stunt like that joker there," he motioned with his gun at the still unmoving form of the man on the floor "they'll get a bullet in the throat, understand? Good."

Taking the silence as affirmation he turned to one of the other dark shapes. Eyes adjusting to the new lighting, Joe began being able to make out more details of the captors. They seemed to all be fairly similar in build and height. Bruisers the lot of them. All but a smaller person who suddenly popped up at the back of the group of people.

_Abigail. _Joe thought with a jolt. No denying it now, she was definitely involved.

"I want you to start checking out each and every room, bring anyone you find out here. Let's get these sheep contained." The first guy who was now more and more apparently in charge directed one of his grunts who nodded before motioning to two of the other guards to sweep the other side of the room to where he was standing, turning and busting into an office a few doors down from where Joe was stood sentinel.

Quietly he closed the door before turning to the doctor who was still silently sitting on the bed. At least there was colour in his cheeks, Joe noted, as well as a determined light in his eyes.

"Doc, I need a way out of here," Joe said, turning on the spot the assess the room.

"There's only the door," the doctor whispered in response, motioning with his head towards where Joe was standing. "Although..."

He glanced upwards above where his computer was silently sitting. Joe followed his eye line and saw with a jolt that there was an air vent into the office. Moving silently and purposefully he stepped from the chair to the table and assessed the grate in front of him. Thankfully it was held on by fasteners and not screwed into the wall. There might just be time.

"Doc I need you to close this behind me," he said, hurriedly opening the fasteners and pulling the grating towards him trying to be as quiet as was possible. Doctor Edwards was on his feet in an instant, holding out his hands and taking the heavy metal from the young man before him.

"Oh god, be careful Joe," he said. His tone belying the worry both for the situation and his patient before him. He'd become rather fond of the fiery youth over the past months, admiring his resolve during his recovery. Knowing that the doctor was talking about more than just being careful of getting into the vent, Joe turned and sent a wink his way before pulling himself into the dark opening before him.

"Always am Doc. Keep safe and just do what they tell you to do. No heroics."

Doctor Edwards snorted at the irony of these words as he placed the grating back onto the wall behind the already retreating form of the young man in front of him. _God's speed_. He thought as he replaced the last fastener over the grate and stepped back down onto the floor. There was no knowing what was going on but Joe could potentially be their ace up the sleeve. He jumped and rose to his feet as the door to the office was flung open and one of the stockier captors bust into the room.

"Out with the herd," he snarled at the doctor, motioning with his deadly looking weapon and roughly pushing him out into the waiting room before slamming the door behind him.

"OK now what?" Joe thought to himself, already sweating in the stifling heat of the dead ventilation system as he crawled as silently as possible towards the faint light in front of him.

* * *

Okey doke. Round two. Sorry for the longer pause between chapters...life is very much hectic at the moment with work and what have you (and babysitting a friend's flat). I'm expecting time to concentrate on this story over the next two weeks though so it should become more regular.

Thanks for anyone who took the time to review. As always all comments and critiques are more than welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

Frank cursed under his breath as he pulled up to the entrance of the parking lot for the hospital. There was a large crowd of easily one hundred plus people who had obviously been evacuated, some still in pyjamas and hospital issue gowns, as well as a growing number of onlookers outside the lot's wall. The whole area was ringing with babbling noise and blue lights pulsed from several emergency response vehicles, turning the space into one very weird looking disco. A uniformed officer stood in the entrance blocking any more cars or people from entering the space and adding to the chaos.

Frank parked his car as close to the hospital as possible and leapt out, not caring to check whether his impromptu vehicle dumping ground would net him a fine or not over the coming days. His gut was screaming at him that Joe would be in the middle of whatever chaos was happening inside the building. Jogging over to the entrance, his way was immediately barred by the young, harassed looking officer.

"I'm sorry but no one is allowed in or out of the building," the officer said to him and several other people vying for his attention.

"Is there any official word on what is happening in there yet?" Frank asked, exasperated in spite of himself.

"Nothing just yet, there is due to be a statement released to the press soon," he replied.

Frank threw his hands into his hair and took a step back, blowing out his cheeks. His eyes raked the officer before him, settling on his name badge.

"Stuart?" he asked, recognising the partner of Alan, a couple of rookie cops they had met on their last case.

The officer's head snapped up at his name and took stock of Frank properly for the first time. "Mr...Hardy?" he asked after a pause, a look of recognition crossing his face.

"Yes, Hardy. Frank Hardy. Friend of Con Riley. You remember me then?" Frank replied. Usually he wouldn't be quite so ham fisted or prone to dropping names to help his situation when dealing with the police but he was desperate to gain entrance. Into the hospital grounds at the very least.

"I do," Stuart replied. Looking around apparently to get someone's attention. "The Chief told me not to let anyone in."

"He won't mind me and if he does I'll leave. I promise," Frank said almost pleading. "Please I just need to find out what's going on."

Taking one more quick glance around, Stuart bit his lip slightly before turning back to Frank and giving him a stiff nod. Frank all but sprinted past the young man, ignoring the sudden break out of disgruntled noise from the small crowd surrounding the officer. He would make it up to Stuart some other time. Right now he had to find out about his brother.

Jogging through the gathered crowd, Frank eyes scanned each face quickly on the off chance that Joe had been evacuated with the others but with no joy. He glanced at his cell for the hundredth time that afternoon but there had been no response to the calls and texts he had fired at his brother. One more reason he was growing more and more certain Joe was in the heart of whatever action was occurring inside. Making his way to the corner of the lot the police had sectioned off for themselves Frank scanned the milling officers in an attempt to find someone he recognised.

His mind took a moment to appreciate just how many vans and cars had turned up on the scene. It seemed the entire task force for Bayport's humble police station was outside the hospital with the addition of two SWAT vans and one communications vehicle. His attention was suddenly taken by the robust form of Ezra Collig making his way across the plot surrounded by officers and the head of the SWAT team unit.

The veteran Chief of police had been an imposing thorn in the side of their investigations throughout their youth and over the years had only grown to be more formidable. His six foot frame had diminished somewhat with age, but his broad chest had seemingly grown larger to match his booming voice and no nonsense demeanour. The strict Chief was not Frank's favourite person to deal with on the force, he could alternate between being ecstatic with their help and being exasperated merely by the sight of the Hardys at the drop of a hat, but at this moment in time he had no choice.

"Chief!" Frank's voice sounded across the barrier louder than even he was expecting.

Chief Collig's head snapped towards the temporary barrier where Frank was standing, hands still at the sides of his mouth in an attempt to amplify the sound of his call. With an eye roll obvious even from where Frank was standing, the Chief waved the men back a moment and headed directly over to him.

"What do you want Hardy?" he barked at Frank, the obvious stress of the situation playing across his face.

"It's Joe," Frank all but blurted out.

"What about him?" the Chief asked, exasperation running through his tone.

"I think he may be inside."

"And what the hell makes you think that?"

"He had an appointment. Physio. Around eleven thirty I think I'm not sure but I haven't heard anything from him since this morning and I can't get a hold of him now even though I've been trying for the last hour and I really don't know what to do next..."

"Frank!" the Chief barked, holding up his hands in order to stop the young man before him from babbling. Even through his own considerable stress he could see the strain already etched onto Frank's face. "There's a good chance he could be in the parking lot right now. They have only just started to do a register to try to work out who is and who isn't missing if he even was inside when this all kicked off."

"What is it exactly that kicked off?" Frank asked, already dismissing the Chief's reassurances.

"I can't release that information Frank..." Collig began.

"Don't feed me the old official line bullshit right now _Chief_," Frank blurted out, in spite of himself. His emotions were running a little higher than usual and the Joe in him was beating his chest a little.

"You forget who you're talking to Hardy," Chief Collig began, his eyes darkening "there is no official line bullshit right now because there isn't an official line. We are here reacting to reports of gun fire and that's as far as it's got. We're in the middle of mobilising a team to scout out the vicinity of the department where the shots were reported. If this definitely concerns Joe then we'll keep you posted but until such time as we've established if it does you keep out of my and my team's way." At this he turned on his heel and quick stepped away from Frank who had frozen on the spot under the scrutiny of the Chief's gaze.

He had the good grace to feel slightly guilty at his own tone for a moment but this was quickly washed away by the undercurrent of concern running through him like electricity at the thought of his brother.

_Gunshots_.

He'd already recently stood vigil by his brother after one bullet had ripped through his flesh. He did not even want to think about having to do it again ever, never mind this soon.

His heart leapt into his throat as his phone vibrated in his pocket, his nostalgic Mario Bros theme song ringtone seeming ridiculous in the heat of the moment. Fumbling slightly as he fought with the cell trying desperately to see who was ringing him, he turned it over to read the display.

"Joe!"

* * *

Bit of a short one I'll admit, but the next chapter is quite a bit meatier and this seemed like the most obvious place to pause this one.

Thanks for all your reviews so far! All comments and critiques are welcome as usual.


	4. Chapter 4

Joe had spent what felt like hours scrambling through the ventilation system when in reality it had been minutes. The cramped, airless space would have been uncomfortable even for someone not sporting such an impressive frame. The sweat dripped down his nose and splashed into a little pool onto the cool metal below his face. Apparently the jokers who'd cut the power had managed to cut the system which controlled the air flow too. He would have thanked them not to have bothered quite frankly.

Scooting forwards by pulling most of his weight on his elbows, he tried to keep any noises to a minimum. It wouldn't do to alert the fools to his whereabouts before he'd had a chance to use the fact they didn't know where he was to his advantage. They'd know of his presence because of Abigail soon enough anyway.

_Abigail. _Joe thought with a shake of his head. He'd never suspected her of wrongdoing. Why would he. The unassuming assistant always keen to help with a smile constantly on her face. She'd alert the troops and he would have them on his trail eventually so better to keep moving.

He rolled his body to the side for a moment and reached his hand down to his pocket to grab his cell. The fit in the vent was tight enough that even this simple movement took more time and manoeuvring than he would have liked. Pulling the phone up to his face, he glanced at the screen confirming his fears. He had zero signal surrounded by all the metal of the vent.

Pushing the phone back into his pocket he scooted forward once again, grimacing at the sharp spike of pain that shot through his shoulder. The dull ache had been making it's presence known the longer he'd spent in the tunnel...but so had his will to ignore it. Gritting his teeth he aimed for a square shaft of light filtering through into the space indicating another approaching grate.

He'd stopped at every one attempting to make visual contact with the unfolding hostage situation outside but so far he'd only come across views of empty examination rooms and offices. Hopefully his luck would turn. The closer he got to the opening, the more obvious it got that this hope was well founded. Voices began filtering through to his ears and finally, as he reached his destination, he allowed himself a silent air punch of elation. The grate afforded a near perfect view of the room and most of its occupants.

The waiting room was on the smaller side for the department. Bayport hospital wasn't the biggest hospital in the world by any stretch of the imagination. The twenty or so people now being held hostage comprised of several nurses, a few of the reception team including Mary but mostly patients. The man that had been knocked unconscious previously now sat in a huddled heap on the floor, blood caked on his face and a slightly dazed look in his eye. One of the accompanying nurses was silently giving him the once over, a grim look of determination on her face.

_Well done_ Joe thought to himself eyeing her actions. Very few of the hostages seemed to be keeping their cool and he'd possibly have need for the ones who could before the end. Mary, he saw with a grin, was definitely one of them. She sat defiantly on the ground, waspishly telling one of her young team who was sitting snivelling to pull herself together before shooting a look of pure loathing at the man standing a few feet from her stock still. Apparently the fact that he was toting a vicious looking gun wasn't impressing her much.

Joe finally had chance to take stock of their would be captors. There were four, interchangeable bruiser types and the smaller form of Abigail surrounding the crowd of people huddled in the centre of the room. They each stood holding their respective weapons with their legs apart seemingly ready for action. One more man, easily the biggest of the group, was stalking back and forth. Tension radiated from his entire being. In the weird, white light of the emergency lighting the scar across the lead guy's face stood out in stark relief. A sneer permanently marred his features. His closely cropped hair served to enhance the sharp angles of his face and the thickness of his neck. All in all his appearance screamed 'tough sonuvabitch'. Joe shook his head slightly. Given the path the guy had chosen in life, which had lead to toting a gun and walking circles around a bunch of scared and frightened civilians in the centre of a waiting room, the tough guy exterior was probably advantageous to his line of work, but it was less than impressive to the young detective. Though Joe himself was built on the stockier side, he had a problem with people using their sheer mass as a weapon to intimidate and naturally felt the need to step in when he saw others doing so. A trait which had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. Just thinking of taking this guy out had Frank's voice ricocheting through Joe's mind with one word.

_No_

Joe almost smiled to himself at the thought but a sudden movement in the room sucked any and all humour out of the situation. A scuffle had broken out with one of the men sitting with the hostages and the nearest goon. With a jolt, Joe realised it was one of the guards he'd noticed sitting outside of the small ward from earlier. His partner sitting next to him jumped to his feet trying to wrestle the man off the guard as he was thrown to the floor and kicked viciously and repeatedly. Hanging from the thickset arm of the attacker he didn't noticed another of the goons walking up behind him. Without much preamble the man kicked the back of the guard's knee knocking him to the ground before lashing out with a ham sized fist. His hand connected with the guard's face with a thud, sending him crashing fully to the floor, dazed.

"Hey, what did we tell you?" the leader said, stalking stiff legged to the guards who were rolling around clutching themselves in obvious pain "any trouble and you'd eat lead. Boys."

Nodding to the two meat heads who'd reacted with such vicious force, he resumed pacing without another glance. They looked at each other with steel eyes before reaching down and grasping the neck of the prone guard nearest to them. Pulling them both up to a kneeling position they coldly pointed the barrels of their guns to the back of the guard's heads. The guards barely had chance to glance at each other before two shots rang out sending them back to the ground. They were dead before they hit the floor.

Joe had to physically bite back a shout at what he had just witnessed. Two young men had lost their lives in moments without any sign of emotion. He still didn't know who he was dealing with but they had just seriously upped the stakes. They were not kidding around.

The deaths triggered absolute pandemonium. The people sitting closest to the guards had been sprayed with blood and grey matter and, after a moment of shock, had panicked. Shrieking, the hostages surged and attempted to run from the centre of the room out of the pen of chairs. Anywhere to get away from the giant men and their giant guns. The armed circle closed in, pushing the would be escapees back with as much, and in some cases more, force than was necessary. From his position up above Joe saw Abigail knocking back more than one person who by first sight would have overpowered her easily. He had been right, it was wrong to underestimate her.

"Sit your punk asses down. NOW!" the leader hollered stepping forward and brandishing his gun. The combined effort of the captors and the boom of his voice served to calm the crowd back into submission.

"Nick, take care of this mess," he said, kicking at the foot of one of the dead guards.

"You got it Lance," Nick replied. Grabbing a limp arm and dragging the body across the room and into one of the abandoned offices, leaving a streak of blood and gore behind him.

_Lance_ thought Joe as he watched Nick repeat the procedure with the second guard. He finally had a name for the lunatic in charge of this operation. _But what do they want?_

The question hung in his mind as he surveyed the room once again. One of the goons closest to the door of the curtained ward turned slightly as if he heard something. Nodding, he turned towards Lance.

"Hey, the boss wants a word."

Lance stopped his pacing immediately and turned on a dime heading for the door.

_I need to see what's in that room. _Joe thought looking forwards along the shaft to figure out if the venting turned into the ward. Matching it up with what he could see through the grating into the room he realised with a jolt that it would and instantly began his maddeningly slow scramble towards his destination. As he approached the grating which would afford him a view of the room, typical hospital noises started filtering back to him. The beeps and clicking of machinery laced through with a deep, throaty mumble of a voice which, though quiet, held an icy edge which told Joe that the owner would not be the type of person to be ignored.

He fought against his need to look into the room enough to slow himself to a silent crawl. The ward looked tiny from the outside and any noises he made would no doubt be amplified. Approaching the grating, he caught his first glimpse of the occupier. It was an older man, definitely in his sixties though at which end Joe couldn't tell. His thinning hair was a steel grey and plastered across his forehead with sweat. The sallow colour of his skin emphasised the deep, purple bags under his eyes and his jowls shuddered with every breath he heaved into his hefty bulk of a body. Despite his obvious lack of health and disregard for fitness, his eyes spoke of a deep intellect and a ruthless intent. Dark and framed by thick, bushy eyebrows, they pierced through the gloom of the room and were constantly on alert.

"Lance, this noise. It displeases me." The words were velvet trimmed with knives. Your best friend and your worst nightmare rolled into one. The voice of a predator. It made Joe's skin crawl.

"Sorry boss," Lance said. A slightly wild look in his eye.

"What, my dear, is the hold up with getting me out of this hell hole?"

"We didn't know the police were going to get here as quick as they did boss. That wasn't part of the plan," Lance replied, wincing slightly as if expecting a blow to the face.

"Ah. The plan," the boss replied. A smile crossing his face that did not reach his eyes. "Would this be the foolproof plan you assured me would work? Without, as you so eloquently put it, a 'hitch'?"

Lance didn't say anything for a moment. He was clearly working on a response which wouldn't result in him having a higher content of lead in his face.

"We were just going to wheel you out boss. Get the boys in scrubs and take you under their noses but one of the sheep noticed Tony's pistol and started hollerin'. We had to...control the situation."

"And now you've landed yourself in a room full of cattle with no way out in a building surrounded by pigs?"

"We're working on it boss..." came Lance's pathetic reply.

"See. That. You. Do," the boss replied. The threat apparent in every word. "Oh and Lance? Send in one of those nurses. A pretty one. I think it's time for my meds."

Lance left the doorway with a stiff nod. Joe heard him ordering one of the nurses into the room. She entered and busied herself with checking the bleeping machines, not making eye contact with the man before her.

_So it's a ruse_ Joe thought to himself. _All in place to get this clown out of the hospital_. But why was he in here and what was stopping him from just walking out himself...figuratively speaking of course. Then Joe remembered the guard detail on the door of the ward earlier, a pang of sadness as his mind played back their fate in HD. Who the heck was this guy?

"My dear, this troubles me," the boss said, lifting his hand into the air. Or...no...not his hand. Joe saw with a start that the arm the formidable man was lifting into the air ended in a swath of bandages with tubes leading in and out of the layers of white. It was quite clear that the limb was now missing a hand.

The nurse looked up from the machinery she was checking before making her way down to the clipboard at the end of the bed. It was the same nurse Joe had noticed earlier tending to the unfortunate hostage whos face had had a chat with the wrong end of a gun. She was darkly beautiful, there was clearly some sort of ethnicity in her background. Olive skin and jet black hair pulled into a no nonsense bun on the top of her head. She peered up through her thick lashes at the man before her and slightly raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Mr...Marchetti," she began, scanning the details on the paper before her.

Joe felt like he'd been punched. The air almost physically whooshed out of his lungs at the name.

_Marchetti_! He was dealing with the family Marchetti. One of the older and well known mob families in the New York area. The stakes had been risen, if possible, even higher. So this ageing yet lethal individual lying before him like an old, wounded lion must be..

"Call me Dante my dear," he purred at her, the wheeze in his voice becoming more pronounced.

Dante Marchetti. Head of the gang with a rap sheet as long as his family tree. He had been in and out of cells up and down the east coast ever since he was old enough to wield a weapon, ending in a life sentence in the nearby infamous Old East Penitentiary for the brutal murder of a lawyer and his family who had worked on a trial which had seen Dante's brother sent down himself. A brother who'd gone to sleep one night and been found with his throat ripped from ear to ear the next morning. The Marchetti's were renown for their ability to stay out of prison as a rule but unfortunately for Dante, the maid hiding in the closet had witnessed the entirety of the savage torture and killing of the lawyer's family that she worked for. Joe figured she'd be in witness protection for life once she was finished with the therapy. Dante and his family were infamous throughout New York and the surrounding areas, including Bayport. Not a town was untouched by Marchetti fingers and the Hardys had dealt with more than one fallout from their family dealings.

So it seemed the mob had taken the chance to bust out Dante during a hospital stay relating to his hand.

"It says here you were admitted to the hospital a week ago with a severed hand?" the nurse asked. Eyeing up Dante again.

"That's right. I had a little...accident," he replied, his voice thick like caramel.

"Surgery to reattach the limb was impossible due to the nature of the wound..." she continued, scanning the notes "you're on quite the cocktail of pain medication."

"And I'd like another hit," he said with a greasy smile.

"And those people out there would like to go home to their families tonight," the nurse shot back.

Dante's smile froze on his face but a thrill of what he was really feeling glittered across his eyes. "My dear. You should really concentrate on your job if you want to go home to your own family tonight."

The nurse raised her head, sticking out her chin in defiance, but her shoulders sagged slightly in defeat.

After a moments pause she slowly returned the clipboard to the end of the bed before turning to a trolley, discarded when everything had hit the fan, which housed a vast array of drugs and medications. After filling a syringe with a clear liquid she moved to the left of the bed where an IV line was plugged into the arm missing a hand. Before she could administer the concoction however, Dante's other arm shot out faster than you'd give him credit for, and meaty fingers enclosed her slender wrist.

"You're very lovely," he began, his eyes like iron "it would be a shame to waste such a pretty face."

He held her arm slightly longer than was comfortable, to her credit she didn't bat an eyelid, before releasing her and settling back into the pillows of the bed. She shot him a look of pure hatred before leaning over and finishing administering the drugs. Without another word she stepped back, throwing the used needle to the trolley before stalking out the room.

One of the goons, possibly Tony, darkened the doorway with his back to the room as Dante's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell into a dug induced sleep.

Joe blew his cheeks out and shook his head slowly. Whatever his next move he had to do it and do it fast. There would be no reasoning with these people and if he found himself on their wrong side then it would be game over.

_I've got to talk to Frank_. Of the four or five examination rooms attached to the department there were two possible ones he could attempt to reach which were far enough away from the waiting room that he could whisper a conversation without hopefully being over heard. He began the slow and arduous task of monkey crawling his way along the vent once again. Sweat covered his body making his arms slick and the muscles in his back quivered with exertion.

Finally reaching his destination, he had a moment of panic when thinking about how he was going to get out of the vent. The fasteners were on the outside. Luckily they were just on hinges and easily pushed to one side...well easily for someone with thinner fingers. Joe had a moment of struggle with each one before they would open. Looping his fingertips through the holes he lowered the top of the grate, as silently as he could. He shuffled forward until his knees were level with the opening and slid his legs through slowly. He felt with his feet for the top of the table he had seen from inside the vent and lowered himself down onto it. Allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, he whipped out his phone silently praying that he would get signal from inside the office. The light on the office phone was out showing that they had disabled those along with the power. So it was cell or bust.

He had to hold in a yell of elation when he saw full bars on the screen. Dialling Frank, he held the phone close to his face and crossed his fingers that his big brother would pick up. Frank may have had a love for technology in general but he had a sore spot about phones and it wasn't unlike him to put it down somewhere and completely forget about its existence.

So convinced was he that the gods would be against him and his brother wouldn't answer that when Frank's voice came through after three rings he jumped out of his skin. It seemed far too loud after the self imposed silence of the last hour or so.

"Joe!"

"Oh my god, Frank, am I happy to hear your voice," Joe began, barely speaking his words incase he was overheard.

"Joe? Why are you whispering? I knew you'd be involved in whatever was going on," Frank said, half exasperated but the relief he felt that Joe was alive was palpable in his words.

"I genuinely get blamed for everything," Joe quipped, wanting to feel annoyed at Frank's admonishing...but realising that it was, once again, justified.

"What is happening in there?" Frank asked, "are you ok, there's been gun shots!"

"I know. Believe me I know," Joe began before giving Frank an abridged version of what was going on.

"The Marchettis!" Frank said, understanding immediately how perilous the situation was, dread falling like a lead balloon into his stomach that his little brother was in the middle of it.

"Yeah, what is happening outside? They spoke about the police being here," Joe replied.

"The Chief is here with half the world's population of officers. They were setting up a team to scout the perimeter when I last spoke to them. I'm going to have to relay your information back to them," Frank said, looking around him wildly for the retreating form of Ezra.

"There's only two entrances into this ward and they're covered," Joe said, speaking rapidly. He didn't know why but he had the sudden gut feeling his time with Frank was running out. "They're shooting to kill right now so if they send people in they have got to be careful. Frank I'm going to have to keep moving. My doctor's assistant is in on this and she knows I'm not out with the other hostages right now. I figure they must think I got away but if they even catch a hint that I'm still here..."

"Joe I want you to get out of there if you can," Frank said sternly. "There's no need for heroics, the police will be in there soon."

Joe smiled to himself at Frank's words echoing his own to the good doctor earlier.

"Hey, don't worry Frank. I'm Iron Man."

* * *

I entirely share Frank's hatred of mobile phones...

All comments and critiques welcomed as usual!


	5. Chapter 5

Frank shook his head, eyeing his phone in disbelief as the line went dead after his brother's words. He was going to kill Joe when he got a hold of him. Age had brought wisdom to the brothers and had tempered even Joe's impetuous nature somewhat. Frank knew he would keep out of the way unless he figured he had no other choice but to intervene...but knowing Joe that was a definite possibility. Jogging to the police tape Frank ducked under it, ignoring the shouts from the officer standing guard. He easily out footed the man and dodged around him on a singular mission to find the Chief and relay the information.

Running up to Ezra, he grabbed his attention once again with a shouted "hey!"

"Hardy!" the Chief began, clearly about to hit boiling point with the young man before him.

"No listen, I have news," Frank began, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Joe's inside, he's just called."

The Chief listened to Frank's information before taking off his hat and wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

"We just got word Dante was inside. I was half wondering if this had something to do with him," the Chief began "the Marchettis are a pain in my ass."

Turning around he motioned to the team of four officers dressed head to toe in protective gear and carrying weapons.

"This is the situation..." After relaying what Joe had told them he began drawing up a battle plan. "I want you to go in there and confirm what it is Hardy has said. I want the layout of the room, the location of the hostages and the status of the assailants. We're going to try and make contact to them from out here. Do not engage the targets, I repeat. Do. Not. Engage. The last thing we need is a bloodbath, there's been two fatalities too many already. This is strictly recon do you understand?"

After a chorus of 'yes sir!' from the group, the leader of the team motioned towards the hospital and they headed towards it at a jog.

Frank sagged a little in relief but the undercurrent of worry wouldn't stop niggling at the pit of his stomach. He wanted to be inside helping, not outside waiting to hear if the sharks had figured out there was a guppy in the tank with them.

"Chief, is there anything I can do?" he asked, quick stepping up alongside Ezra as he turned and headed to the communications van.

"No, I can't have a civilian on site," Ezra began before being interrupted by Frank again.

"Please Chief, you can't send me away right now, not with Joe in there. I promise I'll do whatever you want and keep out of the way but don't sideline me."

After considering the young man in front of him with an uncomfortably long scrutiny, he turned on his heel and continued to the van, motioning in the air for Frank to follow. As much as the Hardy men could get on his last nerve sometime he couldn't deny their usefulness...and over the years he had developed a sort of soft spot for the brothers he would never admit to on pain of death. He wouldn't voice it out loud but secretly he was concerned about Joe's safety too. The Marchettis were nasty pieces of work.

Heading to the communications van in the area now known as the command centre, Ezra hopped up the steps into the back entrance leading into a fairly large space full of lights, leads and screens and two officers wearing head sets whilst furiously typing.

"Status?" barked Ezra, standing in the centre of the two working men.

"We're trying to secure connection to a live feed of the main security cameras for the floor that the gunshots were reported; third floor, section five. So far we've secured sections one through four and we're working on...the fifth."

As the weedy man finished his sentence, the screens in front of him already showing four pictures of empty hospital hallways and rooms flickered and a fifth popped into life showing the waiting room with the hostage situation unfolding.

The four men leaned forward towards the images, Ezra almost pressing his nose against the screen.

"Is there a delay in this picture?" he asked, unblinking.

"About thirty seconds," the tech replied, as involved in the screen as the Chief.

"It's dark in there, what is the status of the power?" asked the Chief.

"As far as we can tell they cut the main power to the room although I don't know why."

"To disorientate," Frank said suddenly breaking his silence. He had moved to a quiet corner out of the way of the working officers so as to minimise the chances of Collig growing irritated with his presence. "Control the lights and you can create a panic you can exploit."

"What about communications? Computers, phones?" asked Ezra.

"They've taken out everything as far as we can tell. We won't know how or what they've done until we have eyes on the grid inside," replied the tech officer.

"I'll get word to the scouts," Ezra said turning towards the radio station inside the van with the intent to communicate the information.

"All due respect sir but they're grunts," said the tech "they won't know the first thing about what they're looking at. It'll have to be one of us." At this he blanched slightly, his co-worker's face going slightly paler in the blue lights of the machinery although he did not protest.

"You're not field trained son," Ezra said rubbing his chin absent mindedly. "We're going to have to put a request out for an officer who understands all this techno nonsense."

"I'll go," Frank said, stepping forward suddenly.

"Out of the question," Ezra replied.

"Chief, I can do this. You know I've been in situations like it before and I know the technology," Frank said, keeping his tone even despite his racing heartbeat.

"You've been in the middle of a hostage take over ran by complete lunatics? Is that what you're saying Hardy?" Ezra barked.

"Well...no," Frank replied "but I've dealt with dangerous people any number of times and I don't easily lose my head. Besides, I'll be going to the power grid for the hospital. I'll be nowhere near the action."

Chief Collig froze on the spot giving Frank the once over once again. He couldn't deny that the kid had a point. He knew all about Frank's formidable knowledge of gadgets and gizmos. Hell they'd even had him help out when upgrading the station's modest computer systems last year.

"Fine Hardy. I'm sending you in. You even think of going anywhere near those crazy bastards and I'll cuff your ass quicker than you can say 'I took a wrong turn' you understand me boy?"

Frank nodded his assent eagerly, his pounding heart, if possible, picking up the pace slightly. Just being in the building would help him feel like he was contributing in getting Joe out as quickly as possible.

"OK. Suit up."

* * *

Joe hurriedly replaced his phone into his pocket, all the while straining his ears for any sounds of movement coming towards the door. He looked around the room considering his next move. It would be foolish for him to go anywhere near where the action was but perhaps he could disrupt their plans from behind the scenes.

He knew the two main entrances to the ward were now security deadlocked and the only way to open them without a massive amount of force lay behind the reception area. Bayport hospital had started taking security a lot more seriously after a day a few years back when a jealous ex had bust onto a ward brandishing a firearm. He could only imagine what alterations to security would occur based upon the current situation.

There was just one problem however...or rather six problems. All of them with guns. Joe eyed the small opening of the ventilation shaft that he had just crawled through and his back muscles shuddered in protest at the thought of climbing back into the cramped space. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Lance's muffled voice ordering one of his comrades to check the rooms for water or food. Clearly they hadn't planned on being in the hospital this long and had brought no supplies. Joe froze for a moment, hoping against hope that they wouldn't pick the room he was in to search first. His heart sank as the unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls headed his way.

Looking wildly around the room he realised there was nowhere to hide. He was in your average consultancy office. A square box with a desk, examination bed and a couple of chairs. There was no time to get into the vent let alone close the grate behind him. Instinctively crouching as if to make himself smaller, Joe silently moved across the room to the side of the door which would mask his body when the armed man entered. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to try to take him out...silently.

The door swung open and Joe froze, his fists in front of his face. The man was a giant. He was easily a foot taller than Joe and at least a hundred pounds heavier; and it was all muscle. He was close enough that the reek of adrenaline sweat choked Joe's throat. The only way he was going to come out on top in a hand to hand fight was with the element of surprise.

Taking a deep breath he waited until the moment the door closed behind the bruiser and stepped forward, tapping him on the shoulder. Visibly jumping, the man whipped around to face the younger Hardy. His shocked face would have been comical in any other situation. Joe realised the man before him was Nick, one of the goons who had pumped lead into one of the defenceless guards earlier in the day. The surge of white anger on the guard's behalf leant strength to the roundhouse punch Joe aimed at the Nick's head. Nick didn't even have a moment to react and the fist clocked him fully in the face, his nose exploding in a gush of red. Joe stepped forward to try to catch the man as he fell to the ground, obviously dazed and in a great deal of pain. As he swayed on his hands and knees he looked up at the truck that had hit him in time to see another hammer like punch fill his field of vision. He barely felt the fist collide before he was out like a light, collapsing to the ground in a heap.

Joe rammed his aching fist into his armpit and drew blood biting his lip in an effort not to cry out. Nick's head had felt like it was made of concrete. Pulling it out slowly he eyed his shaking hand, the knuckles already swelling and turning a deep shade of purple. He shook it in an effort to stop the pain, blinking rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes as he listened intently to hear if the sounds of struggle had been detected by the rest of the mob gang. It didn't seem so and Joe blew his cheeks out in relief as he aimed a sneer downwards at the unconscious man before him.

_That was for the guards _he thought, resisting the urge to send a kick hurtling Nick's way. He may be a scumbag but Joe wasn't prepared to shove a boot into an unarmed man. _Now what?_

His instincts were to get back into the vent and get away from the room entirely, but if he did that his cover would be blown immediately. He'd have to restrain Nick in some way but again it was only a matter of time before he was found. Probably when he didn't immediately come back out of the room holding sandwiches...

A plan started forming in the back of Joe's mind but it seemed so cliché ridiculous that he refused to even consider the thought. Although...

Looking down at Nick he eyed up the scarf the man had obviously been wearing since they first entered the room. Possibly it's original intent had been to conceal their identities after the first plan went pear shaped. He was noticeably bigger than Joe but it wouldn't it be that obvious under the layers of protective clothing Nick was sporting right?

_Screw it_ Joe thought, already bending over Nick and looking at the straps fixing the vest and ammunitions belt onto the muscle bound man. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he heaved him onto his back to unclasp the jacket; Nick was wringing with perspiration. _Not that I smell much better after my little trip through the vents. _

Pulling the vest over his head, he quickly went about fastening the various buckles and clasps before pulling on the ammunitions belt and heaving Nick's hands behind his back. Quickly and securely he unhooked the man's belt and used it to tie his hands together. Next using his own belt he trussed the man's feet. A strip of Nick's t-shirt served as a gag. Stepping back he eyed up his handiwork, using the back of a now gloved hand to wipe the dripping sweat off his brow. It had taken the work of moments to both take down Nick and slip into his gear. Hopefully it was short enough a time to not arouse suspicions...hopefully they figured Nick was just being thorough on his food based mission.

Joe brought a hand up to his noticeably longer and noticeably lighter locks of hair and attempted to smooth them back into something of an imitation of Nick's. Luckily Nick had gone against the grain and not opted for a buzz cut like the rest of the Swiss Family Looney Tunes. Maybe if he kept his head down and just aimed for the next room, as if still searching, without attracting too much attention this ridiculous ruse might just hold out long enough for him to open one of the secure entrances to the department...then he could skedaddle back to a vent and wait for the cavalry to arrive. There was only so much one man could do and he knew being any bolder could be more of a hindrance than a help. Pulling up the face scarf somewhat to hide his features Joe took a deep breath before picking up the machine gun Nick had dropped with a sneer. He was not a fan of guns. Opening the door slightly he saw that none of the gang had their attentions fixed upon him and, heart pounding, he forced himself to walk at a natural pace to the room next in line, head bowed slightly and arms held wider apart than normal in an effort to make his bulk seem larger from the corner of their eyes.

Pushing through the next door he stepped into the room and took a moment to heave a sigh of relief. This stupid, Joe Hardy plan was working. He didn't even want to think about what Frank would say when he got out of this mess...if...if he got out of this mess.

Shaking off the morbid thoughts, he planned his next move silently allowing enough time to pass so it would seem he was still searching the room. The reception was on the way to the next office. It had a raised wall area to separate it from the rest of the room. If he walked behind it instead of walking in front of it as you would probably naturally do, he might be able to find a way to duck down behind the desk and find the security release for one of the doors.

Steeling himself again, he counted to three before slowly opening the door. Again everyone's attention was fixed elsewhere so he slowly made his way to the large desk and walked behind it. He ducked down as if he was searching behind the wall and furiously scanned the area for the button that controlled the door lock system. It was the receptionist's job to let people into the waiting room when a patient pressed a buzzer from outside. Finally, chest pounding, he found the switch and flicked it to the on position hearing the bolts click back and hoping the sniffling sounds coming from some of the hostages would mask it.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Lance's voice rang out across the room.

"Nick! Any luck with that water yet. I'm getting kind of thirsty here..."

The threat of failure was barely concealed in his voice. Joe's eyes widened slightly as he realised everyone's attention would be fixed on him for the moment and he stayed exactly where he was but started rummaging at the boxes of paper work stacked behind the desk in an attempt to sound like he was still looking.

"Not yet...boss," he replied doing his best to imitate the Nick's voice which he had heard only briefly earlier. He waited a beat, his hands slowly moving towards the gun looped over his neck. This could be it.

"Well get a goddamn move on would ya?"

When the reply came Joe closed his eyes briefly before grunting an affirmative. He stayed where he was for another thirty seconds, still rummaging, before daring to slowly stand and walk towards the next door. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears he was sure everyone in the room could hear it. He had to force himself to not slam the door behind him when he eventually made it into the office. Clawing at the mask, he pulled it down his face heaving huge gulps of air with his eyes closed. When he opened them he froze for a second seeing he was not alone in the room before realising he had walked into the area Nick had dragged the dead guards earlier. The asshat had just dumped them where he dragged them, leaving them in a rag doll heap unbecoming of their brave actions prior to their death.

_Sorry fellas_ Joe thought with genuine sadness as he began ripping off Nick's stolen uniform and ammunitions belt. If he'd had time he would have arranged them with more dignity but time was something Joe was rapidly running out of. He finally finished unclipping the last buckle before throwing the vest over his head and grasping for his phone.

'West entrance open.'

He had seconds to fire a text to Frank before pocketing the phone and launching himself silently at the grate to the vent on the wall, propelling himself onto a chair and moving the fastenings with record speed. He pulled the grate down allowing it to hang freely before shimmying into the small opening. Pulling it back towards him, he fiddled with the clasps until it was finally in place before heaving himself down the tunnel with the intention of getting as far away from that room as possible. It was surely only a matter of time before his actions were discovered.

* * *

Thanks so much for the reviews chaps, especially to the guests who I can't respond to personally.

All comments and critiques are welcome as usual!


	6. Chapter 6

Frank moved his way along the hospital corridors resisting the urge to remove the protective helmet which was making it so much harder to see where he was going. Sweat trickled down his brow as he attempted to keep to a steady jogging pace, somewhat difficult under the layers of kevlar he was sporting at the Chief's insistence. Not that he minded, he would be roaming the halls in a chicken suit if it meant he was allowed access into the hospital. Just being in the same walls as his brother calmed him somewhat although he wouldn't be rid of the icy shard of worry in his stomach until he'd laid his own eyes upon Joe once more.

"OK Martin now where?" he said into the mask's inbuilt microphone talking to the weedy, tech officer from earlier who was now directing him to the floor where the hospital housed its formidable power supply.

"You're coming up to a door which leads down into the basement," came Martin's tinny voice in his ears "head down there and you should be at the entrance to the room."

Frank jogged a little harder at his reply seeing the doors in front of him. He burst through them and skipped down the steps, taking them two at a time. Finally reaching the bottom of the staircase, he shoulder barged his way into a room which looked like something out of Star Trek. He paused for a second to take it all in, blowing out his cheeks and pulling the mask over his head to get a better view. There were huge towers of flashing lights and wires all linking computer systems and power supplies and god knew what to god knew where. Holding the mask in his hand, he pulled it up to his mouth to speak into the mic.

"Ok Martin I'm in. I'm going to take a look and see if I can figure out what's going on down here and get back to you."

At Martin's affirmative, he dropped the hand holding the helmet to his side moving forwards to see if he could make heads or tails of the system. The more he looked the simpler it became. Each section of the vast room was broken down into floors and each floor into its component parts. He knew Joe and the Marchettis were on the third floor in the fifth section so he followed the wiring and the and the trail to the third floor system.

Tracing the power lines was a little time consuming, but when he reached the area dedicated to the third floor he knew immediately he had found the right tower. Someone had obviously been trying to isolate the switch which would cut off the lights in the fifth section, the physio department, but had found the task a little more advanced than they were expecting and instead had rammed a lethal looking hunting knife directly into the centre of the tower. Luckily whoever had engineered the system had had the grand idea to keep each floor separate from the others so that if one system went down, the whole hospital wouldn't be affected. The less than delicate addition of the blade had killed the physio department and every other part of that floor, but the rest of the hospital's power stood in good working order.

"Martin, we have a problem," Frank stated into the microphone.

"Go Frank?" Martin replied.

"No...wait," Frank replied as a buzzing came from his chest pocket. The pocket on his shirt where he had rammed his phone knowing it would likely end up pressed against his skin under the tight fitting vest. A strategic placement incase Joe had the chance to or needed to get in touch with him again.

Ripping off his gloves, Frank forced his hand down the neck of the vest, fishing for his cell and ripping it out to his eager eyes.

'West entrance open.'

What the heck did that mean? Frank thought to himself re-reading the text, thoroughly confused for a moment before remembering Joe mentioning how both the exits to the department had been deadlocked shut when the Marchettis had stormed the place.

"Martin I need the Chief, now!" Frank said, not even daring to wonder how Joe had managed to open the door but knowing instinctively it would have been the sort of foolhardy thing which would earn him a slap upside the head the moment he clapped eyes on him.

* * *

Chief Collig nodded and barked out a "loud and clear," at the message Frank relayed back to him. Turning to Paul, the other tech officer in the command centre, he asked if it would be possible to replay the footage from the last half an hour on the monitors.

Paul replied with a yes and got to work searching through the stream and taking it back to about the requested time.

"Now, I need you to fast forward it but slowly," the Chief said, leaning into the monitor which had been dedicated to the task.

Keeping his eye on the mostly black figures of the Marchettis, he watched for the moment Joe had managed to cross the room without them noticing and open the door to the area. He'd found out about all the details of the department in question as well as the hospital and knew it operated on a system of the reception area housing the security button to open the entrance.

Not seeing Joe at any point, his eye was instead drawn to the erratically moving figure of one of the Marchetti clan. He attempted to ignore the retreating and reappearing figure until all at once he was crouched behind the reception desk.

"Stop!" he yelled, causing Paul to jump slightly. "Take it back."

Paul complied and the Chief indicated where he wanted the footage to be replayed from, this time at normal speed. They watched as the figure walked through a door and disappeared for a few moments before returning and carrying on his way.

Ezra's eyes narrowed slightly and he reached forward, clicking the buttons he'd seen Paul use to rewind the tape. Allowing the man to walk into the room again, he scanned the figure with a higher level of scrutiny than before, and then again when he exited the room.

"He didn't," the Chief said to himself, hardly believing what he was seeing. That boy had watched too many detective shows as a child. "I'll kill him. I am going to kill him," he said stepping back from the monitor and pulling a hand across his face whilst shaking his head. He watched in disbelief as the now undeniable form of Joe Hardy nonchalantly made his way across the room from one door to another culminating in a quick trip behind reception before disappearing into a final room and not returning.

"Er Chief, you might want to look at this.." Martin said. He'd been watching the Chief's monitor with one eye and keeping half of his attention on the live stream. After so many minutes of seemingly little action, the room had suddenly erupted into a flurry of movement. Not having sound was detrimental to finding out the source of the sudden motion but the Chief had a good idea it was probably linked to whatever Joe had done to the original guard before his little wander around the waiting room. His suspicions were confirmed moments later when two of the clan dragged a third out of the first room Joe had exited. Arms still tied behind his back, the second they were free they flew to his face as he rolled around on the floor in obvious pain.

The biggest shape stepped forward, grabbing the forehead of the man before him and bringing it up so he could get a good look at his face. After staring for a moment he threw the man's head forward and left him lying on the ground stepping away from him and gesturing in obvious anger at the rest of his group. He clearly assigned two of his people with the task of finding their would be hero and motioned with his gun towards the hostages who had started getting a little rowdy at the current events.

The smallest black figure captured his attention for a moment and his head whipped to what was obviously the only female member of the group. After listening to her with his head cocked to one side, he crossed the room in three huge strides before pulling his hand back and sending her crashing to her knees with a vicious looking slap. Leaving her on the floor, he whipped around clearly agitated and gesturing wildly.

"Oh lordy Joe, keep out of that mad bastard's way," the Chief said to himself before tearing his eyes from the monitor and grabbing the radio linked to his scout team's receivers.

"OK fellas, status report?" he asked into the mic.

"Approaching section five now sir," came back the slightly broken reply of the scout leader.

"Change of plan boys," the Chief replied after explaining the situation to him "I want you to secure the area around that waiting room whilst we figure out what to do with these maniacs. Do not engage unless necessary. If they come out guns blazing...shoot to kill."

"Understood."

* * *

Apologies for the delay between posts. My original plan of every three ish days is falling apart somewhat at the moment. This past fortnight has been entirely too hectic but hopefully I'll be able to get back on point soon.

Thanks to everyone for your reviews. All comments and critiques are welcomed as usual!


	7. Chapter 7

Sweat dripped down his face in rivulets as he silently stepped forward, approaching the area where the hostages were being held. Motioning in the air he sent two of his squadron down one hall as the corridor forked, knowing that their way lead to the east entrance of the physio department. The way he was headed went to the west.

The flickering, ghost like lighting of the third floor served only to make visibility through his visor that much more difficult, but they had all been trained in how to react in challenging situations including a lack of vision. The conditions did not worry him, the adrenaline running through his system only serving to make his senses that much sharper.

Crouching slightly he made his way towards the target, weapon drawn and the reassuring footfalls of his comrade behind him. Secure the perimeter. This objective was simple enough terrain wise. The department only having two points of entry meant there were only two points to cover. Motioning in the air he sent his team mate shuffling forward before moving fast and low past the short corridor leading to the western door of the waiting room. Hallways sprawled out in every direction from his position containing the remnants of the normal day at work the hospital staff had been in the middle of, suddenly abandoned when the evacuation alarm had been sounded. Trolleys, gurneys and other hospital equipment littered the corridors turning the place into a shoo-in for a zombie apocalypse movie.

Wheeling one of the larger trolleys forward, the officer crouched down behind it to afford himself some cover whilst pointing the muzzle of his gun towards the entrance to the department. Rotating his shoulders, he attempted to adjust to the somewhat crushing weight of the bullet proof vest as he prepared for a long stake out.

So convinced that they would be in for a long wait, he broke one of the first rules of his training and allowed himself a lull in concentration. His head snapped back up as the unmistakable sound of a door opening filled the silence of the hall. Fumbling slightly, he grasped at the trigger and attempted to bring the gun up to his eye line quickly. His blood chilled slightly as the preceding shadow of what was obviously a crouching figure came towards him down the short corridor leading to the entranceway. The hairs on his neck stood up slightly on end as his wavering concentration was focused totally upon the moving target.

The barrel of a gun poked around the corner as it's owner cautiously approached the hallway. From the corner of his eye the officer saw his partner shuffle as he prepared himself for a possible light show. The slight movement apparently caught the eye of the approaching target, the barrel whipping off to the right. The action seemed suddenly to be in slow motion as a deafening roar of gunfire filled the previously silent hallway. Horror crossed the face of the officer as the exploding bullets tore towards his team member, his torso vibrating with every impact. The vest absorbed most of the slugs and would have probably stood up to the onslaught, but it was the bullet that ripped through the man's throat which ended up being the killing shot.

Red bloomed across the hospital standard cream wall as the artery pumping life giving blood was nicked, sending forth an apparent tidal wave of liquid from the officer's throat. The never ending gunfire finally ceased and the body of the scout slid slowly down to the floor, the wound in his neck oozing as his heart beat its last.

It felt like a lifetime had passed in the last thirty seconds. Horror had been replaced with sadness and then a white hot rage in an instant and the leader let out a yell of anger as he brought his own weapon up in retaliation. The gun jumped in his hands as he fired off a steady stream of bullets, a sick elation filling him as they started to draw blood. The figure in black fell to the ground, the flesh of his arms, the only place he wasn't covered in layers of protective clothing, hung in shredded flaps. As he hit the floor he brought his own weapon around, returning fire wildly in the direction of the officer.

A silence finally filled the hallway as both guns finally ran dry of bullets. As the smoke settled, the halls were filled with the sounds of wet choking. A grim smile crossed the scout's face as he caught sight of his foe lying in the hallway, dead eyes staring up without seeing forever. The smile turned to a grimace as he was hit with a coughing fit, blood welling up from somewhere deep inside him where one or more bullets had made their way through his armour. Erupting from his mouth in an arc of splatters. He slumped down to the floor, the adrenaline blooming through his body leaking away and leaving him in a world of pain. He barely registered the movement of the returning forms of the other half of his team before his eye line seemed to fill up with the smiling faces of his wife and two little girls before slowly fading to black.

* * *

So this is a short chapter. I wanted it to focus entirely on the scouts without any other distraction and because I have been a tad absent recently I figured I'd send it out tonight along with the other chapter in a two for one sort of a deal. Makes up for them both being shorter chapters.

As always, all comments and critiques are welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

Frank froze where he was in the centre of a long and ominous hallway. He was on his way back to the command centre, the knife to the power grid putting an end to his one mission in the field. As he had jogged steadily, retracing his earlier footsteps to get out of the building in a timely manner, he had been waging a constant, streaming internal battle with himself.

Every bone in his body screamed for him to get up to the third floor and be reunited with his baby brother. But he knew that those actions could throw a six foot one spanner in the works and would irreparably burn any bridges he had forged with the Chief. Ezra would never trust the Hardys again.

Getting closer to the exit, the sounds of sudden gunfire echoing through the mostly silent building had stopped him in his tracks. It seemed to go on forever and then suddenly, it stopped. Frank's heart hammered as he waited, every nerve on alert as he strained his hearing for any indication of what was going on.

After a lengthy pause, more gunfire burst through the halls, the sound ricochetting down the stairways turning the place into a war zone. This second bout of shooting could mean only one thing. Something had gone terribly wrong with the scouting party.

His mind made up for him, Frank spun on his heel and ran to the nearest door leading to a stairwell, ripping off the headset and allowing it to hang at his neck as the voice of the Chief exploded into his ears ordering him to return to command immediately.

_Don't worry Joe I'm coming to get you._

* * *

Ezra's mouth hung open as he watched the unfolding tragedy before him. A little while after his last communication with his team on the inside, Lance had finished wildly gesturing to his troops. After a short powwow he'd sent one of his men out into the corridor, apparently to check if the coast was clear. Moments after the man had left the room, lights that could only come from a weapon being offloaded, suddenly pulsed across the screen.

The hostages inside the room all jumped before attempting to move away from the doors and the now obvious gun fight which was seriously under way. The Marchettis reacted immediately, ducking down low and herding them back to the centre all the while attempting to catch a glimpse of what was happening in the hallway.

Finally after what seemed like the work of moments, the lights stopped flashing and everyone froze. It was Lance who broke the lull, striding to the door and stiff arming it open. He was out of shot for a couple of seconds before returning carrying the body of one of his men over his shoulder. From the way the man's head was lolling it was clear to everyone in the command centre that he was dead. He threw him to the ground staring at the limp body, chest heaving before turning suddenly, obviously hearing something from the corridor.

"_Chief_!" A broken voice erupted from the radio standing on the ledge of the van.

"Report," the Chief replied after launching himself at the sound.

"_Chief,_ _they got them. They're dead, they're all dead_..." came the voice full of obvious emotion.

"Ceasefire, repeat, ceasefire. Get yourself out of there son and get back to base immediately," Ezra replied loudly. Knowing that giving a direct order would snap the man on the other end of the radio into action.

"_Chief I_..." Whatever he was about to say was cut off with the sound of exploding gunfire accompanied by an animalistic screaming making Ezra jump out of his skin.

He turned to the screen with its thirty second delay in time to see Lance stalking through the room out into the corridor with his gun raised before lights once more flashed across the monitor.

"Noo!" he roared into the radio feeling utterly powerless at the situation. "Son? Officer are you there? Report damn you!"

There was a moment of silence and then the unmistakable sound of gurgling filled the van before coming to a painful and silent stop.

* * *

Joe was tearing his hair out. He had never felt so utterly powerless to help in a situation in his entire life. He'd made his way through the vent shafts back to the grate which afforded him a full view of the room, in time to see the Marchettis offload a truckload of bullets into what could only have been the police.

He'd heard Lance raging over the last half an hour after he found the now conscious but still bleeding form of Nick in the room where Joe had left him. Nick had managed to splutter out a vague description of his attacker and Abbie had froze in obvious recognition when she'd put two and two together.

"Lance I know him," she'd said before proceeding to explain exactly who Joe was. "I figured he got out when all this kicked off."

As much as Joe had felt betrayed by Abbie after realising she was eye deep in the mess before him, he'd still winced in sympathy at the ringing slap Lance had delivered upon what Joe had come to realise was his little sister.

Lance had lost it completely for a moment screaming blue murder at all of his troops before demanding that they make another search of the surrounding rooms, loudly explaining the ways he was going to tear Joe limb from limb the entire time.

He'd culminated in sending the last of his men, cousin Carlos, out into the hallways to see if they were still clear. It was evident he felt they were running out of time and needed to figure out a way of getting out of the current situation and fast.

Joe had jumped with the rest of them when the guns suddenly started firing. Now he saw Lance returning from his own gun battle, his scarred face streaked with dirt from the smoke but a sliver of sadness in his eyes alongside the smoulder of rage. He looked down at the ruined body of Carlos for a moment before a manic sneer ripped across his features.

"Find that Hardy kid."

Joe's heart sank for a moment, he would be foolish not to be intimidated by such obvious lunacy, but his head won out quelling the emotion as he quietly tried to figure a way out. He'd crawled for eternity through the sprawling tunnels but it seemed his luck was out as far as them leading anywhere other than inside of the department he found himself stuck in. Figuring he would just have to hold his horses and stay put, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the battery. Perhaps when the search died down he would be able to contact Frank and see what the heck was going on and if he could help from inside.

His attention was suddenly drawn back to the room, however, by Lance screaming his name.

"Hardy!" he hollered, spittle flying from his mouth. "We're done playing now. Your pigs killed Carlos and you're going to pay for it."

_My pigs?_ Joe thought. Lance had clearly lost it if he thought the police had been there at his word. But his crazy mind clearly needed someone to blame for the death of his cousin.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three to get your yellow ass out here and then I'm going to start filling people with lead on your behalf," he said to the air. Even his fellow comrades were starting to shoot looks towards one another, although Nick was eyeing him up adoringly from the corner of the room he was slumped in. He clearly had a vendetta against the younger Hardy too.

Joe's heart hammered in his chest as he viewed the situation from his vantage point. Lance couldn't be serious right? His pulse picked up as Lance shot forward, quick as a viper, grasping the plucky nurse who'd tended to Dante earlier in the afternoon and picking her up, struggling, by the neck.

"One...twooo...don't make me count to three Hardy. You want this pretty face in your nightmares for the rest of your life?"

Joe was completely torn. Of course he didn't want the nurse to be injured, or even killed, in his stead. But then again Lance could be completely bluffing and giving himself away would be playing right into his hand.

His moment of indecision gave Lance enough time to press the still smoking barrel of the gun to the nurses face. She shrieked as the hot metal touched her skin. There was a sudden movement as the form of Doctor Edwards leapt to his feet at the sound.

"Enough!" he said, his arms raised palm forward in an effort to get Lance to calm down. Whatever he was planning on saying next was lost forever as the psycho leader turned his gun without blinking and shot the doctor directly into the stomach. Doctor Edwards fell to the ground clutching at the wound, the blood already beginning to blossom in stark contrast against his white lab coat and a look of sheer shock on his face.

"Alright!" Joe had spoken without even knowing he was going to. The sound echoing along the shaft and putting an end to the screaming which had again begun at the sight of the blood.

Everyone's attention was suddenly fixated upon the vent leading through the room. It had gotten silent as a cemetary in there. Joe pulled his knees up to his chest before pouncing them forward sending the grating rocketing to the floor. He slid out and dropped the ten or so feet to the ground, bending his knees easily to absorb the impact.

Shock momentarily crossed Lance's face as he took in the dishevelled young man before him. Joe's dirty face was streaked through with lines where sweat had ran freely down his skin. His clothes were slightly torn in places where they had caught on sharp edges of vents.

Lance paused for a moment before throwing the nurse to the ground, tears silently running down her face as she clutched at her burnt skin. The unnatural stillness unnerved Joe but he refused to let how intimidated he felt staring into the eyes of the madman show. Suddenly Lance erupted in movement, crossing the space between them easily before bringing his gun grip high into the air and whipping it across the young Hardy's face. Pain exploded behind his eyes as the force of the blow sent his body spinning to the floor, darkness rushing up to meet him.

* * *

Oh Joseph...What are we going to do with you?

All comments and critiques welcome as usual.


	9. Chapter 9

Ezra, still reeling, clutched at the radio in his hands. He was officially in over his head. Watching the monitor without seeing, his mind cycled through the faces of the young men he'd sent into the building. Men filled with vitality and youth. All now probably lying in growing pools of their own blood.

His heartbeat thudded in his ears drowning out all other sounds until the persistent voice of Martin finally broke through his reverie.

"Chief? Sir? EZRA!"

"What?" he'd mumbled back. Still entirely in shock over what had just occurred.

"Sir I need you to look at this."

Ezra's eyes finally focused on the monitor before him and his heart sank, if possible, even lower. The largest of the group was pulling one of the hostages out of the crowd and brandishing his gun to her face. She squirmed and wriggled in his grasp. The men watched, flinching as the gun was fired without preamble at a doctor who'd stood up to intervene.

Already in his boots, his heart could go no lower but it just about stopped when the figure of Joe Hardy leapt from the venting at the top of the room and landed before the leader.

"Oh no, no Joe what are you doing," said Ezra. Realising all the gun toting and posturing had been put on for the Hardy's benefit. He knew in the same situation he'd have reacted in the same way but he almost choked on the feeling of dread which welled up from the pit of his stomach. They watched unmoving as Joe was hammered to the ground, wincing in sympathy as the gun struck his flesh. At the very least he hadn't been shot on the spot.

Lance motioned to his the two remaining unharmed and undead male members of his group to take Joe and put him into one of the offices making it clear he was to be restrained.

Ezra turned from the monitor a moment pulling at his lip in thought.

"Sir?" Martin asked almost fearfully. He too was beginning to feel entirely hopeless.

"I need a negotiations officer down here immediately," the Chief said suddenly spinning to face him.

"But..the phones are down," Martin said, confusion obviously etched into his face.

"Yes they are, but we know for a fact Hardy has one sitting front and centre in his pocket."

The implication of his words finally struck home with the tech officer in front of him and he turned to his desk, a look of steel crossing his features as he barked instructions into one of the many mics littered in front of him.

* * *

Joe awoke with a buzzing in his ears. He lifted his head groggily, the force of the headache rocketing through his brain made him actually recoil. A wave of nausea followed hot on its heels and he leaned over to the side of the chair he was propped up on and spat the mouthful of vomit which had risen up with it onto the ground. Blinking slowly, he squinted in the white of the emergency lighting. Light which had seemed so dim all day but which was suddenly blinding. He was unsurprised to find his hands tied together behind him when he tentatively tried to move them. Looking around the room he realised he'd been left with his very own armed guard to play with.

"Hey...Tony," he said, battling through another wave of nausea. "I see you've been left with baby sitting detail. What, they don't trust you out there where the real action is?"

Joe watched in slight amusement as confusion clouded the man's eyes whilst he tried to figure out how the young punk before him knew his name. Joe knew he shouldn't exasperate the situation but an entire day of sitting watching things out of his hands had left him with a vat of adrenaline running through his veins, and the headache was doing nothing to alleviate his reckless mood.

"Piss off," Tony eventually replied, evidently deciding to just ignore Joe's words.

"Real clever response there Tony, did you burn up the last of your brain cells coming up with that one?" Joe said sneering as a bolt of pain shot through his skull.

Tony said nothing but looked down, considering the man before him, before stepping forward and clocking him on the jaw with his fist, snapping Joe's already aching head to the side.

Joe hissed as the blow pushed the inside of his mouth against his teeth, ripping the tender flesh. He turned and spat a globule of blood on the floor by Tony's feet as he shook his head to clear the blackness tickling the edges of his vision. He did not need to pass out again. Lesson learned, for now. Joe leant his head against the back of the chair and took a deep breath, half listening for the erratic footfalls of Lance heading towards the room. He was sure when he got there that the fun would really begin.

Apparently though, Lance had other ideas. He was clearly going to make an example of the young man who in his mind had gotten his flesh and blood killed. Calling from the waiting room, he ordered Tony to bring him back in front of the crowd of whimpering hostages. Tony roughly poked Joe to his feet before frog marching him through the office door. Joe concentrated on not staggering through the wave of dizziness which hit him as he stood.

Swaying slightly as he was placed before Lance's burning eyes once again, he took a moment to glance at the fearful faces below him. Including the wild eyes of Doctor Edwards lying propped against one of the chairs quite obviously in agony. Joe knew that a gut shot could take hours to kill you and the attending nurses were trying to keep him alive with what little they had access to. _Hang in there Doc._

At the very least Joe figured he could now use the current situation to keep the attention on himself so no one else got injured.

Lance stalked before him, eyeing him up like a caged predator before lashing out with a vicious backhand slap which knocked Joe to his knees. A trickle of blood flowed down his chin as his already ruined mouth was abused once again. He laughed slightly to himself as he swayed a little from his position near the ground.

"Something funny to you punk?"

"It tickles," Joe said looking back at Lance with eyes full of challenge before shooting bloodied grin at him.

There were gasps from the onlookers as Lance froze before rushing to Joe and grasping him tightly around the throat. Panic blossomed in Joe's chest as his brain registered that he couldn't draw a breath, the ham like hands crushing his wind pipe and cutting off access to his lungs. His eyes began to roll back into his head as he weakly struggled against his bonds.

"Stop, you're killing him!" a voice, husky with age, cut through the terrible noise of Joe's choking grunts.

The trance Lance was in was broken by Mary's words and he released the pressure on the young man's neck dropping him to the ground where he curled into a foetal position hacking and coughing.

"You're right..." Lance said turning to her, some of Dante's lethal vocal power becoming apparent in his voice. "Wouldn't want to ruin the fun this soon would we?"

He turned and aimed a kick to Joe's midsection, all the while keeping eye contact with the old receptionist before him, making Joe curl in on himself even tighter and eliciting a groan of pain.

Mary raised her chin in defiance but settled back to the ground. She couldn't take the sight of the life being squeezed out of Joe before her but she was worried any more of her words might result in causing him more pain.

Joe drew in ragged breaths through his aching throat, wincing as they brought on another coughing fit that aggravated the pain in his head and now also his stomach where no doubt a bruise was already forming. Maybe he hadn't learned the 'don't annoy the bad guys' lesson as well as he first thought.

"So, Hardy, who have you been contacting?" Lance said taking a step away and visibly slowing his breathing to calm himself down.

"I mean, so far it's just been you beautiful," Joe bit out without thinking. Nope, definitely hadn't learned that lesson.

Lance twitched slightly at his words before turning and fixing him with another of his trademark crazy stares.

"Who. Have. You. Been. Contacting?" He spat out, the strain to not beat the man before him to a pulp evident in his every movement.

"I tried the Pope but the sonuvabitch only works Sundays."

Lance smiled. This more than anything sent a bolt of warning to the pit of Joe's stomach.

"I've been talking to Abigail," he began. The change in pace throwing Joe somewhat. The younger Hardy glanced to where the petite Marchetti was standing, eyes dead ahead refusing to look at the situation she had created. Lance nodded to Tony who had materialised behind Joe. Tony leant forward and bodily pulled him to his knees again by his arm. "Dear, sweet Abigail tells me you've been having treatment for a gun shot wound."

Alarm bells started ringing in his head quietly...picking up volume as Lance walked towards him still smiling.

"She seems to think it left you in quite...a lot...of _pain_."

On his final word he leant forward and clutched Joe's left shoulder, forcibly shoving his thumb into the point where the bullet had entered his flesh.

He couldn't help it. He cried out in pure, animal pain when Lance's thumb drove home into his still healing scar sending lines of agony rocketing through his body. Lance was pushing so hard his hand shook with the pressure, and the sound of Joe yelling only served to make him press that much harder. He applied the force for half a minute without blinking, until the muscles in his arms seized up and he was forced to let go.

He eyed the man before him as Joe slumped forward until his forehead touched the ground, still kneeling, shuddering rhythmically as pain pulsed through him. Lance shook the cramp out of his arm and nodded to Tony once more, who pulled Joe's head back up from the ground.

Sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead and lines of pain etched around his eyes were made all the more obvious by the grey now tingeing his skin.

"Oh sorry..." Joe panted out at the madman before him, blinking as his eyes watered, "did..I hurt your..arm?"

Danger flashed into Lance's eyes and he grasped Joe's shoulder once again, anger driving his movement. Joe writhed against the pressure, fighting Lance with every broken fibre of his being, the entire shoulder muscles across his back seizing with the pure, white hot agony and his voice cracking as he cried out.

Despite his anger, Lance could only keep that kind of pressure up for so long and his already aching arm muscles protested once again. This time when he let go Joe slumped fully and bonelessly to the ground, heaving great racking lungfuls of air and whimpering slightly. Through the haze of pain he could hear the other hostages muttering amongst themselves at what they were witnessing, too scared to step in incase they too ended up with a bullet. Good, the last thing he wanted was someone getting hurt playing the hero because of him. He needed to temper his smart mouth and Frank's voice echoed in his head.

_No shit Sherlock_.

His inner monologue was so perfectly Frank he snorted in amusement despite himself before groaning and attempting to push himself back to a kneeling position without the use of his hands. Steeling his muscles with a deep breath he lurched backwards onto his heels, gasping slightly as his vision suddenly tunnelled. Blowing out his cheeks he forced himself to concentrate on the room before looking up into the eyes of the devil himself. The dead, glittering stare reminded him suddenly of the shark like eyes of Stan and his body shuddered in response as a sneer broke out over his face.

Lance considered the stubborn man before him. Breaking him might take longer than he was used to. No matter, Marchettis were brought up on a breakfast of torture and his skills were yet to let him down.

"So I'll ask you again Hardy, who were you contacting."

Joe allowed the pure, burning hatred he felt for Lance to fill his eyes before replying. It was a look which almost made the lunatic flinch. Joe sagged in defeat and dropped his gaze as he realised he would have to play along to make sure no one got hurt on his behalf.

"I didn't call in the strike team if that's what you're getting at. I don't work with the police. Hell the Chief gets annoyed just by looking at me."

The words were true but they fell on deaf ears. Lance was still on fire with the death of his cousin and he wanted someone to burn.

"Who..did..you..call?" he bit out, spit freely running out of his mouth.

"I didn't call anyone you crazy bastard!" Joe yelled back, the force of his shout rasping through his aching throat.

The last strip of reason flew out of Lance at his words and a wildness rushed into his mind blanketing out all thoughts. He launched himself at a snarling Joe who grit his teeth and braced for the oncoming attack.

He never had a chance. The full force of Lance's body propelled him backwards expelling all the air from his body. Lance straddled his bucking waist as Joe desperately tried to free his arms from behind his back whilst Lance fumbled to get a good grip on his shoulder. Lance smiled when he saw the panic flashing in his eyes as Joe's body protested against the coming pain. All thoughts were obliterated as Lance pressed the thumbs from both his hands into Joe's already screaming shoulder. The resulting wave of excruciating pain literally blinded him for a moment and after a full minute of wordless agony Joe's brain finally tapped out and his body slumped back to the ground unconscious once again.

Lance continued pressing even though his quarry was obviously defeated for now, a little red spotting showing through Joe's shirt where his ministrations had drawn blood. As the rage leaked away and his senses began returning to him, he became suddenly aware of the muffled sound of music coming from the front pocket of Joe's jeans. Somehow instinctively knowing the call was for him he leant back on his heels, rooting for the cell before pressing the answer button and bringing it to his ear.

"Joe can't come to the phone right now, would you like to leave a message?"

* * *

I'm quite enjoying writing Lance, not going to lie.

As always, all comments and critiques welcome. Thanks goes out to guest reviewers too, I can't respond to you personally.


	10. Chapter 10

Ezra couldn't help it, his frustration at the situation was sending his stress levels through the roof and it bubbled over in the form of lashing out at the officers in the room. Stalking back and forth repeatedly he spat pure venom through gritted teeth.

"Where is my goddamned negotiation team?" he said making Martin flinch slightly.

"ETA is five minutes," he replied without looking up at the Chief. He'd worked with the man before, although never under such circumstance, and he knew Ezra was just blowing off some steam. Nothing personal.

"Right, I need you guys to trace Joe Hardy's cell number. Anyway you can, legal or not. We need access to that phone."

The two tech officers looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Tracing a phone number was probably one of the easiest hacks that could have been asked of them, people were far too trusting about bandying their personal information around the internet and phone numbers were no exception. Martin resisted the urge to crack his fingers before applying them to his keyboard and had just settled his hands when movement from his monitor caught his eye.

The somewhat unsteady form of Joe Hardy was being brought back into the room. He watched for a moment, his eyed glued to the screen in horror as Joe was beaten to the ground. Words passed back and forth between him and the leader before he was set upon. Martin leapt as the Chief's hand fell onto his shoulder, both men's eyes fixed upon Joe's writing body.

"Find me that number."

Shaking his head slightly, Martin fixed his eyes upon his computer quickly rattling through Joe Hardy's online paper trail to recover the digits, his heart beating in time to his moving fingers as they flew across the keyboard.

"Got it!" he said with elation, typing the numbers into one of the command centre's on board phones before handing it to a snatching Chief.

Ezra's heart was in his mouth as he raised the receiver to his ear, the dull sound of ringing like music to him now. Acid bile coated the back of his throat as he watched in revulsion as Joe was tackled to the ground, twisting his body in obvious agony before bonelessly sinking to the floor.

Martin gazed up at his boss as the Chief's mouth set into a grim line. He wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the look he was giving the Marchetti leader.

"_Joe can't come to the phone right now, would you like to leave a message?"_

"You sick fuck," the Chief bit out in spite of himself. Not strictly following the script in the handbook.

"_Well hello to you too,_" returned a velvety smooth voice "_and who is it I have the pleasure of talking to?_"

"This is Ezra Collig, chief of Bayport police. Now tell me which Marchetti scumbag am I talking to?"

"_Now Chief, I don't think I like your tone very much,_" the voice bit back, a slight edge to his demeanour. "_I have a room full of people here who won't like me when I'm angry._"

The Chief closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing his anger, the threat received loud and clear. "We know you have hostages," he said to the monitor in front of him.

"_I take it you have eyes in the room then Chief,_" the man said. The figure on the screen looked up and scanned the ceiling before finally catching sight of the security camera he was obviously looking for, bringing a hand up in a slow and mocking wave. "_Did Hardy set that up for you as well?_"

He looked down for a moment at the unconscious youth before him, lifting his foot and pushing Joe's head to the side where it lolled.

"He's not working with us," the Chief said. Desperate to take some of the heat from Joe. "He's just an innocent bystander."

"_Innocent?_" the voice said back with a hitch of anger "_Carlos is dead because of this 'innocent' kid and I intend to make him pay. I intend to make you all pay._"

"Look, who am I talking to?" the Chief asked trying to keep the worry out of his tone.

After a moment of breathy silence the voice finally replied. "_Lance._"

Lance Marchetti, he'd figured as much. Dante's second oldest son. His eldest had been killed in some past gang fight or other leaving the slightly unbalanced Lance as second head of the family.

"OK, Lance. I'm sorry about Carlos but Joe had nothing to do with it. Those men were sent in on my word."

"_Then I'm going to have to come for you too Chief, as soon as I've dealt with this joker,_" Lance replied clearly not believing a word the Chief said.

"Let's make a trade? My life for theirs," Ezra said. Ignoring the whispered "_Chief_!" from Martin.

"_Let's not be hasty Chief. Their lives are worth much more to me than just your own. Especially when I have now made it my mission to make sure you feel the same pain as my family has had to suffer._ _Let's sweeten the pot shall we?_"

"What exactly do you want?"

"_I want my family to walk out of here. My whole family, including my father. He doesn't move so well at the moment, operation you see, so we're going to need access to a vehicle which is big enough to transport all of us off into the sunset._"

"You know I can't allow you to walk out of that building scott free after all the lives you've wasted today," replied the Chief. Knowing it would anger the man on the other end of the phone.

"_Those men died because of you and Mr Hardy here. We didn't start this war."_

"Oh yeah, what about the guys guarding your dear old dad's room hmm? Tell me that Lance," the Chief replied, his blood boiling once again.

"_They were...informed of how they'd need to behave if they wanted to leave with their lives. Their blood is on their own hands._"

"OK Lance, say we are here considering your demands. How about you release some of the hostages as a gesture of goodwill. The women perhaps? Or the doctor with the puncture. Trust me when I say you don't need any more blood, on your hands or any where else," the Chief said working to keep his tone even.

"_What's in it for me exactly?_" asked Lance.

"It'll count in your favour when your ass ends up in court," the Chief said, losing his cool for a moment.

"_No can do Chief. How about you send up a care package first, my team is getting mighty thirsty in here. Then maybe we can talk. Have one of your men, unarmed of course, bring me a crate of water and some food, your choice my dear, and then maybe we can talk moving cattle. Oh and Chief? No funny business or I'll be forced to cull the herd._"

With that, the line went dead, a few seconds later Lance turned to the camera and saluted. Ezra, still holding the phone, covered his face with his hand a moment before looking back to Martin, realisation flashing in his eyes.

"Where's that other Hardy kid?"

* * *

Another short one I'm afraid but it made sense to cut it off here.

Thanks so much for all the words of encouragement so far. They make my day that much brighter.

As always, all comments and critiques are welcomed.


	11. Chapter 11

Joe attempted to open his eyes but they refused to co-operate, clamped down with a crushing fatigue. His body shuddered as his muscles awoke with him, the nerve endings sparking like static electricity. Tears leaked down the sides of his face as his eyes watered when layer upon layer of pain made itself known. The most debilitating being the knife like cramp in his injured shoulder. His arm felt like it was fused to his side and Joe didn't want to even try to move it incase he got an action replay of the hurt Lance had previously inflicted upon him.

It had easily been the worse pain he had experienced in his life, even being shot had hurt less as the sting of the bullet had dulled over time. The increasing pressure of Lance's thumbs had made for comparably increasing agony and the resulting cramping was only continuing the experience.

After the aches of his body, the continuous pulsing shudders racking his frame, the rasp of his breathing and the immobility of his arm the next thing Joe noticed was the hand stroking his forehead.

Summoning up some of that Joe Hardy stubbornness he forced his eyes to open, his field of vision filling with the face of the nurse who had refused to play ball and be a good little hostage. He blinked rapidly to focus his blurry sight, opening his mouth to attempt to find out what had happened since his world had gone black, but his swollen throat didn't want to play ball either. Coughing in an attempt to get his voice back, he swallowed before trying again.

"What is going on?"

The nurse, who's name badge identified her as Maria, smiled down at him though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Your phone rang, Lance answered it and had a chat with the police chief outside. It didn't go down so well but he's chatting with his people right now so we have a reprieve."

Her slightly accented voice was like a pillow to Joe and he closed his eyes for a moment, sighing as his rebellious body continued to tremor no matter how much he tried to stop it.

"What he did to you...it was horrible," Maria said, her eyes misting over for a moment. "I didn't know what to do."

"You did right to do nothing, these guys are not to be messed around with," Joe replied, his voice breaking somewhat as his throat protested.

"I need to take a look at your shoulder," Maria said as her professional need to help overpowered her own fear.

It was a statement Joe was dreading but he knew she was right if he was to be helpful in the not too distant future. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before looking into her eyes and letting her know to proceed with a short, sharp nod.

She bit her lip slightly, looking up to see whether Lance was in the vicinity. Drawing his attention to herself or the ruined young man before her was not a smart idea. Looking around her she eyed the strap of her leather watch before unclasping it and cramming the end of it in Joe's mouth. "Bite down on this if you have to."

Flexing her fingers she lifted Joe's head from the floor with one hand, pressing the base of his neck with the other. He closed his eyes, wincing as her fingertips met with a mass of knotted muscle. She worked at it, loosening the tightened knots until they eased themselves somewhat. She rotated Joe's head slowly, his eyes creasing as the pain in his back grew in intensity before easing off to a dull ache. She worked methodically trying to soothe the stiffening muscles until she finally reached close to the abused scar tissue. The exploding pain caused Joe to bite the thin watch strap almost entirely in half and Maria moved her hand away like it had been burned.

"Sorry it's just..I don't think there's much you can do for that right now...Think I'm going to have to go full Brit mode and just stiffen up my upper lip," he said through gritted teeth after allowing the torn watch to fall from his mouth. The attempt at humour seriously falling short.

"I'm sorry Joe...I don't know what to do...unless..." She looked across the room where a trolley stood open, its wears on display. Motioning to Mary she mouthed _"distraction_" as obviously as she dared with the remaining Marchetti guard stood watching the hostages. Mary's eyes glinted in understanding and she nodded imperceptibly as Joe looked wildly from one woman to the other.

"Whatever you're planning, forget it. I'm fine, really. Don't get yourself killed because of me!"

"Shut up," Maria replied, her attention now fully focused upon Mary and the hovering goon.

"Son," Mary said suddenly attracting the gaze of the thickset man. "Son, I need to use the bathroom."

"No," he replied unblinkingly.

"Son I'm an old lady and when I got to go I got to go. Now I can either be taken to the bathroom or I can go right here and you can just deal with it for the rest of the day. Your choice."

The man's eyes flicked round the room as a look of uncertainty crossed his face. With Lance and the other's talking tactics with Dante, he was very much alone and in charge of the situation.

"Son?"

"OK, fine but be quick," he said motioning with his gun to the toilet door and attempting to watch both her and the room. She stood and made a decent show of stumbling over to the entrance, falling to one knee when she saw him turn back to the room from the corner of her eye.

"Give an old lady a hand would you?" she said "these bones of mine aren't used to sitting on the cold, hard floor all day long."

He visibly rolled his eyes before making his way across to her, picking her bodily from the floor by her arm. Quick as a flash Maria crossed the room to the trolley, grasping for a syringe and fumbling for one of the many colourless vials before dashing back to her seat beside Joe. He couldn't help but laugh at the continuous stream of Mary babble in the background of the room as Maria filled the syringe, flicking it slightly before plunging it into one of Joe's prominent arm veins.

"Morphine," she said by way of description to his questioning gaze "just enough to get you back on your feet..well to take the edge off. Not enough to send you back to sleep."

"Good...good," he replied, his eyes blinking slightly slower as the pain killer rushed through his system dulling the white hot pulsing in his shoulder. He took a moment to relish the receding pain before opening his eyelids fully. She was right, it wouldn't do to pass out again despite his entire body screaming for the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.

He rolled his ruined shoulder experimentally, hissing as the movement caused a spike of fire to lance through the scar. So long as he kept his arm immobile he would be able to cope with the pain.

"OK now what?" Maria asked the worry she was obviously feeling crossing her face in spite of her best efforts to control it.

"Now...now we wait," Joe said apologetically as her eyes clouded in disappointment, "I can't take on five of these guys with weapons alone and I refuse to let anyone else put themselves in harms way. The best thing we can do is wait for the Chief to bust us all out of this joint."

Mary's voice grew louder as the goon lead her back to the room and her seat on the floor. She flopped before looking over to Joe, smiling when he attempted to communicate his thanks to her with just his eyes.

Joe started slightly and hissed as Maria brought a tissue up to his mouth and dabbed at the drying blood. She wiped softly as he flinched beneath her touch, her hand pressing his ripped lip against his teeth despite her best efforts at being gentle. Her eyes roamed his face and she winced in sympathy at the bruise blooming on his temple. "You look like you've been in a war zone."

"Nah, this is nothing...unfortunately in my line of work this stuff seems to come with the territory."

"What is it that you do exactly that means you're used to the sight of gun wielding maniacs?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"I work in a detective agency with my dad and my brother," Joe said, his voice catching slightly at the thought of Frank on the outside. He hoped his brother was keeping clear of this mess but if he knew anything with any sort of certainty, it was that Frank was as sure to be as knee deep as he was.

* * *

"_Frank, this is the Chief. Return to the command centre immediately_."

"No can do Chief," Frank responded to the tinny voice in his ear. He'd been ignoring the sporadic burst of commands which had been bursting out of the earphones over the past half an hour as he made his way to the source of the gunfire and the room where the hostages were being held. But a note of desperation and something else in the voice of the Chief stopped him in his tracks and made him respond.

"_Frank...something's happened,_" the Chief said after a pause.

"Joe?" Frank asked swallowing slightly.

"_...yes_," the Chief replied, rushing out his next words, "_he's alive..._"

Any relief Frank felt at the Chief confirming Joe was alive froze at his next words, "_they found him_."

"Oh god, is he OK?" Frank said, the worry evident in his every syllable.

"_He's in bad shape. But it looks like someone upstairs is looking after him. There's a nurse in there who seems hell bent to get him back on his feet._"

Frank sagged a little at his words. The last thing he wanted to have to do was call his mother and father with more bad news about his brother. They were barely holding it together after the last time their sons had gotten hurt.

"Chief, I got to get in there somehow. I have to help him," Frank said desperately.

"_Listen son, there's nothing you can do right now, you're only going to get yourself killed if you go in there._"

"I'm going in either with your help or without it," Frank said. A coldness creeping into his voice.

The Chief paused, sighing on the other end of the line. He knew sending in Frank had been a bad idea from the start...but he also knew if he had a family member in there with those psychos he'd be chomping at the bit to get in there too.

"_There is one way,_" he began, sighing again "_head back to command and we'll get you kitted out. But take it from me Hardy, you're going in there under your own duress. If they take you down I can't risk sending my men in there after you and endangering the lives of the rest of the hostages."_

"Understood."

* * *

Thanks once again for those of you taking time to review.

I know this story has been a bit Frank light so far but I've just started writing chapters where he's very much in the thick of it as well so don't worry. He'll be apart of the action soon enough!

As always, all comments and critiques are welcome.


	12. Chapter 12

Frank had turned heel and hot footed it back to the command centre after signing off with the Chief. On his return Ezra had filled him in with the information of what had happened both with the scout party and Joe..although he had made sure to keep the details to a minimal when concerning Frank's brother. The last thing he wanted to do was fill him with worry and fury before sending him into a volatile situation.

Frank had pushed past the Chief in order to get a good view of the monitor behind him.

"See, I told you son," Ezra said after Frank's head had drooped in relief at seeing the obviously very much alive, if injured, form of his brother still lying on the floor. "The girl beside him is taking good care of him."

"What is it exactly you want me to do?" Frank asked, bracing his hands on the desk before him as his eyes still raked the screen taking in every detail.

"All I want is for you to deliver the package," the Chief began, motioning behind him where an officer was securing brown paper bags of food on top of a crate of water. "Don't play the hero, I don't even want you to speak to the guy. This is specifically a delivery mission. It's our only chance of showing our good intentions and hopefully that crazy bastard will let you take a couple of the hostages out with you."

Frank nodded once in ascent. All he wanted was the chance to lay his own two eyes on his brother and make sure that he was truly OK.

"I mean it Frank. I know that all you want is to haul Joe's ass out of there but one wrong move and I don't doubt it will mean a bullet in the eyes of one of those people...or right between your own. I can't have any more deaths on my hands today and the only reason I'm even considering this is because I know you can keep your head."

"You can count on me Chief," Frank said, his mouth setting in grim determination.

"I'm going to call him the moment you reach the floor, do you understand?"

"Yes, and your team is going to try to negotiate with him for the release of a few of the captives. I know," Frank replied, his eyes straying back to the monitor. He tensed slightly as the forms of Lance and his men streamed out from the room they had been occupying as he had held some sort of meeting, probably to discuss their next move.

"Show time."

* * *

"Hey you, back with the herd," Lance said upon entering the room and seeing Maria settled by the prone form of Joe.

Her head had snapped up at his words, her eyes narrowing in pure hate as he motioned with the gun muzzle for her to move. The stare out lasted a full thirty seconds until she jumped slightly when Joe's hand touched hers as he silently communicated with her to do as Lance had said. She sighed slightly, her head drooping as she stood making as if to walk back to the group.

She turned suddenly, her eyes snapping back to Lance. "I need some supplies."

"...What?"

"For Doctor Edwards," she replied, motioning with her head towards where the doctor was slumped on the floor his hands bloody where he clutched at the padded material torn from one of the nurses uniforms in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Now tell me why should I want to let you do a thing like that?" Lance asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"You're not going to win points if the Doc dies," Joe piped up, hating how alone Maria looked facing off against the wolf in front of her.

"Shut up Hardy," Lance snarled, aiming a boot into Joe's side and causing him to curl over as the air whooshed out of his body.

"Stop it!" Maria said, unable to help herself. She made as if to bend down to help Joe but Lance aimed his rifle at her once again.

"Nah ah Miss Nightingale," he said, the sarcasm once again present in his tone, "although our resident punch bag does have a point. You got thirty seconds. Best make them count." He motioned with his head at the abandoned trolley in the corner and Maria crossed the room before busying herself with picking up vials and bandages.

"Tick tock," Lance said, cocking his head slightly. Maria turned without looking at him and walked back to the doctor kneeling at his side and moving his hands to check the wound, talking to him in hushed tones as he grunted in pain.

Joe uncurled slowly, very much feeling the aches in his body as he looked over at Maria and the doctor. Doctor Edwards did not look good, they had to get him out of here and soon if he had any chance of surviving.

"If you're planning on him living he's going to need a lot more than bandages and tape to save him," Joe said looking up to Lance from the ground. Joe set his mouth as Lance's head snapped down to him, lip curling into a snarl. It was clearly taking every ounce of restraint he had to not kill the boy before him. Joe couldn't help but wonder why Lance hadn't just put a bullet between his eyes already.

_Leverage_, he thought to himself as Lance twitched slightly before ripping his eyes from Joe's battered frame. He turned his head, twisting his neck to one side with an audible click before stalking to the office he and his goons had vacated recently. He returned swiftly clutching something in his hand which he waved slowly to the security camera above them. Joe's cell.

Lance lowered his arm but not his gaze and waited without movement. The message was obviously received loud and clear. Within moments the phone buzzed to life.

"Chief?"

"_Hello Lance. This isn't the Chief you're talking to. My name is detective John Jones. I'm with the communications branch of the State Police department. I'm here to discuss the situation with you._" Joe could hear the voice of the detective ringing from the phone from his position on the floor if he kept entirely still and strained his ears.

"Ah well, then we have a problem John Jones," Lance replied,"see, I really, really want to talk to the Chief again."

"_I have the Chief with me here in the room,_" replied the detective, "_how about you and I have a little chat first though?_"

"Hmm. Well how about I just put a bullet in the kid instead?" Lance said cooly, lazily moving his arm so the barrel of his gun pointed directly at Joe as he stared, unblinking, into the camera above. Joe instinctively braced himself, unconsciously holding his breath.

"_Let's not do anything hasty Lance. We don't want anyone else getting hurt right?_"

Without bothering to reply and without breaking his gaze with the lens, Lance brought the gun up in the air and whipped it down clipping Joe across the cheek, instantly opening up a cut which began to bleed freely. Joe's head snapped to the side as the blow caught him off guard and he grunted in pain.

"Oh I don't know John, I'm kind of enjoying myself," Lance replied without emotion and still with an unwavering gaze.

"_Hey, hey, hey, OK Lance, OK it's me, it's the Chief. John get off the goddamn phone. Hello?_" the harried sound of the Chief's voice broke across the pin drop silence of the room.

"Ah Chief, I was beginning to wonder if you didn't care about me any more."

"_Look I'm here now just leave the kid alone alright Lance?_" the Chief asked. His tone even.

"For now," Lance replied.

"_You wanted us to call?_"

"I'm beginning to feel a little...charitable. But first thing's first. How are we doing on our food order? Over thirty minutes and it's free remember?" Lance asked humourlessly.

"_It's on it's way now Lance,_" the Chief said, sounding weary, "_it should be with you within minutes. Just...don't shoot the messenger alright. You wanted him to bring it in remember? No funny business. I swear he's got the gear on his back and the food in his hands and that's all._"

"We'll see about that when he gets here," Lance replied. "Should everything go smoothly I'm willing to let him walk out of here with a couple of the sheep."

"_Starting with the doctor right Lance? He needs that wound looked at._"

"Well I'd have insisted on the women first myself but it looks like he's in no position to argue now does it?" Lance replied, breaking eye contact for a moment to look across the room where Doctor Edwards had finally succumbed to the blood loss and passed out.

"_That's right,_" the Chief replied, "_but he needs taking care of_."

"Boss?" The voice of Lance's fifth family member, Pietro, rang out across the room from where Lance had placed him guarding the western door.

"What?"

"Someone's coming," Pietro replied bringing his gun up in his hands.

"Looks like I'm going to have to cut this little catch up short Chief much as I enjoy our littler chats," Lace said without rushing. "I hope your guy is on his best behaviour."

"_He will be Lance, just don't hurt him OK?_"

"Catch you later dear," Lance said hanging up the cell and staring at the lens for a long moment before finally turning towards the door. Without saying a word he raised his gun, the rest of his mob mimicking his movement, before he looked over to Pietro and nodding once. Pietro moved forward to open the door leading out onto the corridor and the dark shape of a man entered the room walking awkwardly because of the bulky package in his hands.

"Welcome," Lance said, an icy edge to his tone. "I trust our order is present and correct?"

The man shuffled forward before dropping the package at Lance's feet, his identity finally exposed in the unnatural light. Joe strained his neck from his position on the floor, a look of absolute horror crossing his face as he realised who had entered the room.

"Food and water, just like you asked," Frank said, a grim determination entering his eyes.

* * *

Enter Frank Hardy stage right.

Sorry about the delay. Work is crazy insane at the moment and I'm starting to work evening shifts and not getting home till 11...

Any comments and critiques from anyone still on board as always are welcomed!


	13. Chapter 13

After finally getting the all clear to go into the building, Frank had shifted the weight of the fairly large food parcel he was carrying and set off at a slow jog. His heart pounded in his ears as the adrenaline pumped through his body like a drug. He took a slow breath in an attempt to calm himself down but he knew the effects wouldn't wane until he'd managed to clap eyes on his brother and make sure that he was really alright.

Taking the final staircase, he pushed through the doors onto the third floor hallway and paused for a moment. Though Lance and his gang were expecting him, it wouldn't do to throw caution to the wind. The Chief had impressed upon him just how crazy this guy was and he there was no point in taking risks. Lance had shot several people today without blinking after all.

Frank scooted forward and eyed both corridors forking off from the main hall. Heading to the west towards the door he knew was open, he had a moment of shock when he finally came to the point where the bloodbath had occurred earlier. Another thing Ezra had warned him about;

"_Look Frank, those guys that went in there and didn't come out...it's not going to be pretty_."

He'd seen his fair share of bodies in his relatively short life but the sight which greeted him still stopped him cold. Two of the officers were slumped against the wall, blood spray coating the hall from floor to ceiling. Another lay in a heap at their feet, he'd obviously been trying to help his comrade when he'd been taken out. The last lay on his back in front of Frank. Frank could see the man's dead eyes, still opened wide with shock, through the visor of his helmet. An involuntary shudder racked through his frame as he pulled himself together and carefully stepped around the fallen men. Thoughts of their families' sadness fogged through his brain and he shook his head impatiently. He would have to compartmentalise and deal with this later. He couldn't afford to be thrown off the task at hand.

He shuffled forwards attempting to avoid the blood pooling on the floor and looked up in time to see the face of one of the Marchettis peering through the door at him before turning, obviously to warn the rest of Frank's imminent arrival. Good, the last thing he'd wanted was to catch them off guard.

The man opened the door, a lethal looking weapon aimed directly at Frank's face, and motioned with his head for Frank to enter the room. He walked forward, adjusting the package as he went, almost as if to prove to everyone that this was his main intent.

"Welcome," Lance's voice was much more chilling in HD. He'd sounded crazy enough over the phone but in the flesh the undercurrent of insanity in his words was all too obvious. "I trust our order is present and correct?"

"Food and water just like you asked," Frank replied. The Chief had warned him against starting up conversation, he was strictly there to deliver the parcel and walk the traded hostages out. But Lance didn't seem the type to take too fondly to his words being ignored.

From the corner of his eye Frank noted the prone form of his brother...and the way his head whipped round at the sound of his voice.

_Don't give the game away little brother_ Frank thought to himself without fully looking at Joe. It wouldn't do for the sharks to know that the two men were related. God only knew the outcome of that situation. He needn't have worried however. Joe wasn't stupid and although he couldn't help the look of horror that crossed his face, he recovered his composure quickly, slowly moving his head until it rested on the ground once more.

"Good, now how about you set it on the floor and we'll check to make sure you weren't stupid enough to come in here packing," Lance said, motioning with his gun at his feet where he obviously wanted Frank to place the box.

He slowly moved forward, lowering the parcel to the ground before taking a step back. Lance nodded at Pietro who strode forward and began to roughly pat Frank down. They wouldn't find anything however, the Chief had been damn clear about the no weapons allowed rule. Frank couldn't think of a faster way to get himself killed at that moment.

As Lance bent down and fixed his attention on the box before him, Frank finally allowed himself a moment to rake the room with his eyes and take everything in. The hostages were all huddled in a group, eyes starting to take on a weary cast. The nurse who'd helped Joe had hers fixed on his face as Pietro continued searching him. Frank had to stop himself from nodding at her for her earlier help with his brother. He really didn't want to clue anyone in on his and Joe's relationship. Finally his eyes rested on the dishevelled form of Joe. He was still flat out on the floor and appeared to be twitching every now and again in obvious discomfort. His face was smeared with the blood from the cut on his cheek and his lip, the skin underneath already coloured with bruises. He clutched his left arm across his chest to keep it immobile. All in all he looked like crap but Frank was relieved to see him alert and awake.

As bad as Joe looked, he was the life of the party compared to the injured doctor. The man was now pretty much unconscious, his skin taking on a sallow, waxy sheen. Frank knew if they didn't get him out within the hour it was likely he wouldn't wake up. He jumped slightly as Lance apparently finished poking around in the bag and stood back up to his full height.

"Well, it seems the Chief is as good as his word," he began.

"Are you as good as yours?" Frank replied. He couldn't help himself, the Chief's advice on staying silent flying out of his head as he took in the scared faces before him. As much as Joe's headlong dashes into danger exasperated him, Frank was always filled with as much empathy when faced with the victims of crime.

"Now, now kid," Lance said, his eyes flinty. "Let's not get hasty. I'm sure the good Chief will be interrupting this picnic before it can get started."

The phone in Lance's hand started to jangle almost the second he had finished his sentence. Lance smiled without humour, eyes boring into Frank's as he slowly brought the phone to his face.

"Chieefff."

"_Lance? All right, you have your food, let's talk hostages._"

"Tut, tut and I didn't even have chance for a drink first. Terrible manners," Lance replied.

"_You'll have plenty of time for that once some of those people have been turned loose,_" replied the Chief, forcibly keeping his tone even. "_I want as many people out of there as possible Lance._"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you 'I want never gets'?" Lance asked. "I'm willing to let your boy here walk out of this fine establishment with four of my cattle. Four. No more, no less."

"_Come on Lance, you can do better than that._"

"Don't push your luck Chief or that number will half."

"_Lance, let's make it an even five OK? We've played by your rules up till now, why not show you're willing to give a little as well?_" For a moment the professional tone of the Chief's voice broke and a shard of his true feelings poured into his words.

"Fine Chief, seeing as we're getting to be such good pals these days, you can have five of the inmates. To be perfectly honest I'm getting tired of hearing them whine," Lance replied after a pause.

"_Thank you Lance,_" the Chief replied obviously gritting his teeth against what he really had to say to the jackal on the other end of the phone.

Without answering the Chief, Lance ended the call before looking across the room to Abigail who snapped her head up in response to his movement.

"Go fetch a trolley for the good doctor, there's a girl," he said, eyes narrowing "I don't think there's much chance of him walking out of here himself now do you?"

Nodding once, Abbie turned on the spot and headed to an inconspicuous corner to grab one of the vacant trolleys before wheeling it towards where the unconscious man lay bleeding. Lance lazily scanned the huddled mass of people before him before lifting a hand and pointing at three women who were easily the more skittish of the group.

"Huey, Dewey and Louis, front and centre," he said, motioning with his head to join Abbie near the doctor. "Your crying is making my teeth itch."

Standing slowly, the women flocked closer to each other instinctively, tears silently streaming down their faces but suppressed hope flashing in their eyes at the thought of getting out of the room with their lives. Lance raked the room once more, stopping at Mary who was sitting next to one of her team of receptionists who was obviously desperate to be picked, but trembling at the thought of being under the crazy man's scrutiny.

"How about you grandma?" he said, before considering the weeping woman next to her. "Or how about your pretty friend?"

Mary arched her head defiantly. "Take Clarissa," she replied huskily "you don't scare me none sonny."

"Oh really?" Lance said slowly, "well how about a little eeny, meeny, miny, moe..." he asked whilst pointing at each of them in turn nonchalantly. At the word moe his finger stopped on the now openly crying face of Clarissa, who stood silently and made her way to the others after shooting a glance at Mary who nodded at her in reassurance.

"Tony, Pietro, get the doctor on that gurney so we can get him out of my sight," Lance said snapping his head to the faces of his men, "he's making such a mess."

They each nodded once and stepped forward before bodily lifting the limp man onto the trolley. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while and groaned slightly at their rough handling before passing out once more.

"Right now, boy scout," Lance said turning to Frank, "get these pathetic excuses for humans out of here."

Frank nodded in response, fighting the urge to look at his brother one last time in reassurance before turning to the huddle of scared women before him clustered around the trolley. His entire body screamed at him to not leave Joe alone in this room again, but he knew he had to follow both Ezra and Lance's orders or risk ending up in the same boat himself. Fighting his protesting leg muscles he walked towards the gurney.

He had just reached up and put his hands onto the frame behind the doctors head, with the intention of pushing the trolley, when a distant voice caught the attention of everyone in the room. It was coming from the small ward in the corner of the department. Frank remembered Dante with a jolt. Lance had been running the show for so many hours now that he'd almost entirely forgotten about the actual head of the family.

"Stop!" The word rang distinctively from the doorway. Lance nodded to Nick who had been put on guard duty after his run in with Joe had left him mostly incapacitated and useless for other tasks. Nick turned towards Dante's bed before turning back to Lance.

"The boss wants a word with the kid," he said thickly through his obviously broken nose.

"Pietro, kindly escort Mr Hardy wouldn't you?" Lance replied although confusion briefly crossed his face. Pietro bent down and grabbed Joe's good arm and began to haul him to his feet. Joe grunted in pain at the manhandling.

Nick turned once more to the bed as Dante's muffled voice was heard once more.

"No," he said turning back to Lance, "the other kid."

* * *

Well originally I didn't plan on having a chapter break here..but I just did a word count of where I was actually going to stop it and it came out at nearly five thousand...so I figured I'd shoe horn one in :D

Thank you so much for all the reviews. They make my face very happy.

As always, any comments or critiques are warmly appreciated.


	14. Chapter 14

Lance turned to Frank, an eyebrow raised before lifting his gun slightly and motioning him into the ward. Frank turned slowly and started to cross the room, managing to sneak a brief glance down to Joe whose face had fallen. Though not filled with much colour to begin with, the younger Hardy had gone noticeably paler at the current turn of events.

Walking onwards, Frank stopped at the doorway as Nick eyed him slowly before stepping to the side to allow him entry. Frank heard Lance ordering the women to haul the trolley, with the prone form of the doctor, out of the room and off to their freedom. They didn't need to be told twice and as a unit they pushed the gurney out into the hallway, loudly gasping at the sight of the dead scouts in the hallway before the door closed behind them cutting off the noise and sending them on their way to fresh air.

Frank was aware of the sound of footsteps behind him and the imposing figure of Lance filled the doorway, his need to know why Dante had summoned the delivery boy painted across his face. Frank was as taken aback by the ominous form of Dante as Joe had been when he'd first clapped eyes on him. The older Hardy had not dealt with the head of the family directly but like his brother and father he was very aware of the Marchettis and their movements. He'd seen countless pictures of the man before him in print connected to various crimes. The pictures could not convey the lethal, imposing nature of Dante, however, and Frank had to steal himself so as not to betray his true feelings. He didn't know what Dante wanted but he was determined to try to stay out of trouble.

"Why hello there. It's nice to meet you boy," Dante purred, his words edged with a wheezing coming deep from inside his chest. A sickly sweat coated his forehead and his eyes were slightly clouded with pain but Frank had a feeling that this wouldn't slow the man down. "I have always wanted to meet Fenton's boys in the flesh."

An icy bolt of pure fear flashed through Frank at his words and he had to fight hard to keep his face from giving the game away.

"I'm sorry?" he said, attempting to keep his voice neutral. Lance's head had whipped up at his father's words and his eyes narrowed as he considered Frank properly for the first time.

"Don't play cute with me kid," Dante said, smiling though his eyes flashed with anger "I like to keep tabs on people who meddle with my family and your father is high on that list. It's only right that I'd keep a tab on his up and coming, rising star detective offspring as well. You were obviously going to become a thorn in my side sooner or later."

Frank swallowed as his mouth went dry at Dante's words. He realised denying who his father was would do him no good. He'd been rumbled. He set his mouth in a grim line and stared right back at Dante, saying nothing.

"I thought as much, well welcome along to our little family outing," Dante said, his eyes narrowing.

Lance had started seething where he stood at Dante's revelation, his eyes never leaving Frank's face. With a yell he stepped forward and lashed out sending Frank crashing to his knees as he belted him across the face. He pulled his leg back in order to send a kick at the dazed youth before him, but a softly spoken "Lance," from his father froze him.

"That's no way to treat our guests," Dante said, his words as cold as iron.

"His brother got Carlos killed," Lance bit out without looking at Dante, "if I kill this kid then that little bastard out there will know the meaning of the word loss before I send him six feet under as well."

"Lance, my dear, I am as angry as you are at losing Carlos," Dante said, actual sorrow lacing his words, "he was my brother's boy after all. But there are better ways of using these two don't you think? I would like to get out of this hell hole _today_ if possible."

From his position near the ground Frank's mind whirled as he attempted to figure a way out of this mess that wouldn't result in either he or his brother losing their lives. Nothing was crying out as a good idea however, so he decided to try to keep Dante talking whilst he attempted to think of a solution.

"How did you find yourself in here anyway Dante?" he asked, bringing his hand up to rub his aching cheekbone where Lance's fist had connected with his face.

"I, unfortunately, had a little accident," Dante replied, waving his arm stump in the air so Frank could see his lack of a hand. "Although, I guess accident may not strictly be the right turn of phrase."

"You telling me someone on the inside wanted to take a souvenir?" Frank asked, slowly getting back to his feet and shaking his head slightly to clear the cobwebs.

"Well, let's just say I had to think of one sure fire way to get me off site for a little while so my darling family could come for a proper visit," Dante replied, his stare turning icy as he watched the meaning of his words sink into the young man before him.

"You...you mean you cut off your own hand so you could leave the jail?" Frank asked, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. A man who was prepared to go to such extremes was a man he didn't want to be confined in a small room with.

"Their on site facility deals with quite a number of everyday injuries. I had to be a little more...creative to make sure I would be taken out of the system."

"Well not to point out the obvious here Dante, but it kind of looks like you wasted your time a little," Frank said cooly. "You're a hand down and in a hospital surrounded by police. Maybe your guys should have spent a little longer on the planning phase before you dropped you digits."

"The plan was perfect!" roared Lance suddenly, making Frank flinch a little despite himself.

"Lance, indoor voice please," Dante said coldly before turning back to Frank "I admit I was a little sceptical when my boy told me they planned to just wheel me out of here and into the sunset but they were right in thinking no one would take notice of men in scrubs."

"It got us into the building didn't it?" Lance said almost sullenly. "If that bitch hadn't noticed Tony's gun we'd have been high and dry."

"So I take it you had a backup plan that involved taking out the power and suiting up with the automatics incase your brilliant idea went south?" Frank asked, piecing the puzzle together. It was obvious they'd had a man in the system control room who'd rammed a hunting knife into the machinery when whoever it was in the waiting room had noticed the worker on shift who'd happened to be packing. They must have sported their Action Man gear under their scrubs. A quick costume change and they'd gone from being everyday working people to a squadron of terror.

"My well you are the quick one, what they say is true," Dante said considering Frank before him. "Of course, your brother has played his part in ruining an admittedly flawed plan."

"A flawed plan which has resulted in the loss of too many lives," Frank bit out, angry at the mention of Joe, "my brother just wanted to get those people out there home to their families."

"And what, dear boy, about _my_ family?" Dante said. Obviously losing his cool slightly. "Carlos isn't going to be kissing his mother goodnight tonight either is he?"

"Joe had nothing to do with that!" Frank said almost wildly. He did not want Dante to focus his attentions on Joe right now. Not with the fire that was burning in his eyes.

"Your brother was in contact with the police."

"He was contacting _me_!" Frank yelled.

"No matter," Dante said, finally bringing his emotions back under control. "Contacting the police, contacting you. It's all one and the same. Carlos is still dead because of it. Actually, Lance shall we bring Hardy junior in and have ourselves a little family reunion?"

Dread filled Frank at Dante's words and he felt completely helpless. There was nothing he dared do or say to dissuade them bringing in his brother when they were surrounded by guns. He flinched slightly as he heard a grunt from the waiting room as Joe was hauled to his feet and pushed into the ward.

Joe staggered in through the doorway woozily, his left arm still clutched across his chest but a look of grim determination on his face. A look which sent a bolt of fear through Frank. Joe glanced up and Frank shook his head imperceptibly, communicating silently with his eyes,

_Behave yourself little brother_.

Joe smirked mirthlessly and he shot a wink at Frank before moving to stand beside him and face Dante for the first time.

"Howdy."

Dante's eyes narrowed slightly at the jovial greeting before a chilling grin spread across his face as he took in the dishevelled young man before him.

"Nice of you to join us Mr Hardy."

"Oh I've been here a while, we just haven't had the chance to chat," Joe replied quickly "may I just say, the hospitality in this place _sucks_."

_Joe! _Frank thought, internally fighting with the need to clip Joe on the head. Why must he forever be saddled with someone eternally intent on getting himself into trouble.

"I'm very sorry you feel that way Joseph," soothed Dante "Lance, how about you show Mr Hardy just how sorry we are."

Frank only had a moment to shout "no!" before Lance stepped forward and smacked Joe across the face, opening the split in his lip once again and sending another river of blood down his chin. Frank stepped in to intervene but the shadow of Nick crossed the doorway, shaking his head and motioning the older Hardy back to his spot with his gun.

The blow had knocked Joe's head to the side and he took a moment to shake off the waves of nausea before returning to a standing position and looking Dante in the eye once again.

"Not exactly four star is it Frank, but I'm sure it'll do for now," he bit out, turning his head and spitting blood onto the floor.

"I thought so," Dante replied with another smile. "Now what an interesting situation we find ourselves in gentlemen."

"You're kidding yourself if you think the Chief is going to offer more to you just because you got the two of us dude," Joe said cocking an eyebrow.

"Ah my dear boy, I think you're underselling your worth."

"I'm inclined to agree with my brother," Frank said although exasperated with Joe's wording. It was like he was actively trying to get himself killed. "We're going to be just another couple of hostages for him to worry about."

"Gentlemen, I don't think for a moment that your dear old father is going to let the Chief get away with not offering the very best for your return," Dante said with another shark like grin.

"Unfortunately for you our dear old dad is away right now," Joe said, shooting back his own grin.

Dante's smile stayed in place though the edge of his mouth twitched a little as his eyes bored into Joe's reading for the truth in his words. Eventually he found what he was looking for when Joe's gaze didn't flinch.

"No matter then. Putting on a show for the Chief using the two of you will still carry more weight than any of those nameless faces out there and I'm sure he won't want to have to deliver the news of your untimely demise to Fenton in any case. Like I said, underselling your worth."

Taking a deep breath he heaved himself up the pillows he was lying on, obviously in some discomfort, before snapping his fingers to get Lance's attention which up until that point had been fixed like a missile on the faces of the Hardys.

"Lance. Take these two out front and centre and...convince the Chief that we mean business. Not too much now though my boy, show a little restraint. I doubt he'll be so cooperative were something too unfortunate happen. When he does attempt to contact you, bring the phone to me. It's high time I introduced myself."

* * *

Sorry for the delay, I think I've mentioned starting to work evening shifts. Plays havoc with my editing time..

Thanks to everyone for your lovely words! And to my guest reviewer, thank you for your critique. Like I say, they're always welcome and I will attempt to take your criticisms on board as I crack on writing more in the future.

All comments and critiques are, as always, welcomed with open arms!


	15. Chapter 15

Ezra was pacing the floor of the command centre again internally kicking himself. He knew that he'd messed up big time the moment they'd watched Frank called back from the hostages and entering the ward where Dante was being held. Dread had filled his entire being when Joe had been dragged from the floor moments later. He had a feeling Dante knew exactly who he was dealing with. Now Ezra had both the Hardys neck deep in hell and there was nothing he could do about it without possibly endangering the lives of the other remaining hostages.

Speaking of which, the speakers crackled suddenly as a voice blasted from them. The officer in charge of the party the Chief had sent inside to intercept the released captives was making contact with the home base.

"_Hostages present and accounted for sir," _he said through the static,_ "bringing them home. Repeat, bringing them home now_."

"Understood, medics on standby for full evac. Get them here in one piece officer," Ezra replied breathing a tense sigh of relief.

They'd managed to get a couple of those people out at least so far, it was the best news they'd had all day. Although they wouldn't know the full status of the doctor who'd taken one to the stomach until he was brought from the building and loaded directly into the helicopter standing by ready to take him to the nearest hospital.

The irony of having to evacuate the doctor from the one place which should have been able to save him wasn't lost on Ezra. They had a full team of EMTs just waiting to pounce and save his life moments from the hospital exit designated by the Chief to the officer in charge of the retrieval team.

It wouldn't be much longer but the Chief wouldn't allow himself to feel any less tense about their status until he saw them in the flesh. Although after looking back to the live stream for a moment he felt the tension grow as the forms of Joe and Frank Hardy were shoved bodily back into the room from the ward they'd been taken into, and pushed into a position where the Chief could see every detail of both of the men.

A tension which turned to nausea as the guards surrounding the pair suddenly fell upon them both beating them down to the ground.

* * *

Frank tensed as he was marched back to the waiting room. He couldn't see any way out of the situation which didn't result in someone being killed. He stumbled slightly as they were pushed to the clearer end of the room a little ways from the remaining hostages. Suddenly they found themselves surrounded by Lance, Pietro, Nick and Tony.

Abbie was still, her face a mask of pure professionalism as she stood guard in between the Hardys and the sitting people. Precisely where Lance had put her incase they got a little rowdy at what they were about to witness.

Frank glanced over at Joe who nodded as their eyes met. His own face set in a grim determination. Frank lowered himself slightly as he eyed the bristling men before him who were barely containing their need to act on the adrenaline rushing through their systems. In the quiet moment before the storm, Frank looked over at his brother once again and resolved that he would not go down without a fight.

"Boys...sic 'em."

At Lance's word, the three stocky brutes under his command leapt forward arms raised and snarls on their faces. Frank sidestepped as Tony aimed a hammer like blow directly at his face, using his own momentum to hurl a fist into his stomach. Tony fell down, winded, but Frank only had a moment to consider him before he was rugby tackled from the side by Pietro. They crashed to the ground, Frank's shoulder taking most of the impact and the air rushing from his lungs. He took a second to compose himself before wriggling his arms free of Pietro's bear hug and launched a punch at the man's face. Pietro's head snapped backwards and he grunted before whipping his fist back and answering with his own punch. Opening a split on Frank's lip and sending hot blood rushing down his chin. Frank blinked quickly as the blow rattled his head. He took a moment to glance over at Joe who was currently being circled by Nick.

Nick had thrown himself at the younger Hardy the second he had a chance. Clearly in the mood to deliver a little revenge for his earlier beating. Joe's reaction time was not the fastest it had ever been, his body had been put through considerable stress over the course of the day and it was beginning to show. So when Nick aimed a hit as his ribcage, Joe rolled out of the way a moment slower than he should have and the blow glanced with enough force to take his breath away. Keeping his left arm clutched across his body so he wouldn't aggravate his injured shoulder, Joe whipped upwards from his crouched position and lashed out with an uppercut. Nick dodged most of the blow grunting slightly as it clipped his chin. Knocking his teeth together with an audible click. He growled and took a step back before rushing at Joe and throwing them both to the floor. Joe landed hard and the jolt sent a bolt of lightning pain across his shoulders and back and made him gasp aloud. Nick straddled the younger Hardy and launched a punch at his face. Joe hit it out of the way with his hand but couldn't block Nick's other fist in time and the blow made him see stars. He was aware of the distant sound of his cell phone ringing once again, though the all the noises in the room seemed suddenly to be muffled as his ears rang. Nick grasped Joe's flailing good arm and pinned it to the floor before winding up for a knock out blow.

Joe saw red for a moment as he heard the unmistakable sounds of flesh hitting flesh and saw Frank crashing to the floor once again from the corner of his eye. This whole situation was just not fair, they were the good guys for pity's sake. He attempted to move his good hand but it was well and truly secured in Nick's grasp. So he took a deep breath and steeled himself against the inevitable pain and whipped his left arm back, as far as he could from his position on the ground, and jabbed it directly into Nick's already broken nose. The resulting wave of pain across his shoulder made Joe's stomach churn and he had to take a moment to just ride it out before allowing himself a snarling smile of grim satisfaction. His rabbit punch had cause Nick to throw himself back howling, blood erupting from his nostrils once again and drawing tracks down his lips.

Joe rolled himself away from Nick and attempted to stand in order to help his brother who was curled on the floor as Tony delivered stinging kicks to his torso. Pietro was out for the count, a bruise forming on his temple. Tony hadn't fared much better. Blood streaming openly down his cheek from a gash on his eyebrow. But despite Frank holding his own, he had been trained in a number of fighting styles after all, he couldn't face off forever against two opponents and the punches they had landed had finally brought him down. Joe snarled as he threw himself forward onto his knees, his eyes tunnelling slightly. He brought himself up as high as he could. Standing was out of the question for the moment as waves of dizziness crashed over him. He threw himself at Tony's legs. Tony who was perched on one foot as he brought back the other to aim another kick into Frank was already slightly off balance, and the unexpected form of Joe tackling into him sent him crashing to the ground again. He snarled as he rolled to the side before bringing his arm up to deliver a murderous blow to Joe's face. The younger Hardy was lying on his side where he had fallen. The fight all but gone in him as his exhausted body called time.

"Enough!" The ringing sound of Lance's voice broke through the glazed rage of Tony's face and he looked over at his boss, panting with exertion. He aimed a hate filled glance at the Hardys before bringing himself to his feet and staggering over to the prone form of Pietro who was slowly coming round.

Joe rolled to his back, heaving great lungfulls of air in an attempt to calm his hammering heartbeat. After a moment he pushed himself over and pulled his body towards his brother who was still lying curled on the floor gasping. Frank's face was a mask of cuts and bruises and his eyes were closed tight as he attempted to control the pain coursing through his abused torso. He opened them and his field of vision was taken up by the concerned face of Joe, who smiled a little as Frank looked up at him.

"Hey," he said gruffly, relief evident in his voice, "check it out, matching war wounds." He pointed to his split lip before collapsing back to the floor with a humourless laugh at Frank's responding eye roll. Joe attempted to gather his remaining strength and give his body a moment of respite. The attentions of both the Hardys were drawn to Lance's voice as he spoke once again to the Chief on the line.

"There see, play time's over so you can. Stop. Yelling. Down. My. Ear," he said holding the phone away from his face slightly as the garbled roar of Ezra's voice hurling abuse was evident from the speaker. "Hush up Chief, pops wants a word."

Frank slowly straightened himself out, blowing out his cheeks as he did so as his body protested the movement. Tony had really bashed out a tune on his ribcage and it was taking it's sweet time for the stinging to ease off. He glanced over at his brother who was still lying on his back, eyes closed as he got his breath back. Maria caught his gaze from across the room, her face a mixture of shock and frustration. Frank shook his head at her slowly. The last thing he wanted was for people to get involved in the madness. Her expression glazed over as she noticed the movement and grudgingly accepted.

Frank strained his ears to listen to Dante talking to Ezra. From the waiting room there was no chance of hearing the Chief's response but Frank's blood turned to ice when he heard Dante's closing sentence.

"You know what we want my dear. If we don't get some sort of response soon then we're going to start killing the hostages. One per hour, starting with the women. Goodbye for now. I expect we'll be hearing from you soon."

Frank's mind whirled as he attempted to see a way out which wouldn't result in the Marchettis getting what they wanted or the need for anymore body bags. His attention was brought back to Joe as his brother caught his gaze, the same worry he felt reflected right back at him. They had never been in such a mess before and he had no idea what their next move would be. But if he did know one thing it was that he and his brother wouldn't take it lying on their backs.

* * *

Thanks so much for the reviews. I haven't had a chance to respond to each of them like I usually would like to but they are really appreciated. Every one which pops into my inbox makes my day just that bit brighter.

I'm thinking I have almost finished writing this beast! Seems like I have a couple more chapters to go to wrap it up but yeah, it's been a fun journey and thanks for being aboard.

As always, any thoughts or critiques are welcome.


	16. Chapter 16

The Chief stood silent. Determination seemed to radiate from him in waves though he wasn't moving an inch. He gazed over the monitors in front of him, stopping on the grainy faces of each one of the hostages in the room and finishing with the prone bodies of the Hardys. Though he could barely make out the features of each shape, he was making sure to remind himself that each of those pixellated figures was a person. A person with a family at home waiting for any news about the status of their loved ones.

It was important to him to recognise the possible human cost of whatever his next move was going to be. A calm descended on him as he thought through the possibilities. The Marchetties were demanding a vehicle and their freedom. Something he couldn't let them get away with after so much bloodshed. Someone would have to be accountable. On the other hand, he couldn't let them rattle through the hostages like they were nothing as he was sure they would. He knew they would ruthlessly back up their threat. Show boating by beating up the Hardy kids was testament enough to that. He knew they could hold their own in most situations but he felt entirely responsible for their well-being. There was no way he could look Fenton in the eye knowing he'd gotten his children killed. He brought his hand up to his face and pulled at his lip as he thought, barely noting the faces of the tech officers as they gazed up at him awaiting their next orders.

"Get me the last tactical unit," he said suddenly, his eyes hardening, "boys, we're going in."

* * *

"Joe!" Frank hissed at his brother, taking advantage of the fact that Lance and his goons' attentions were focused on the ward Dante was residing in.

Joe blew out his cheeks slightly before rolling his head to the side to look at his brother. He was clearly feeling the culmination of the day's events.

"I'm not going to lie Frank, I don't know why the hell you're in here...but it's good to see you big brother," he said with a half grin despite the sinking pit opening in his stomach at the thought of Frank joining the mad house too.

"I'm going to kill you."

"...Well that wasn't quite the opening line to the heart warming reunion I was expecting there Frank but we can probably work with it.." Joe said with a slight groan as he shifted his body over onto it's side so he could stop straining his head to view his brother.

"I am going to kill you and then resurrect your stupid, numb skull self and then hand you over to Ezra so he can kill you as well," Frank said heatedly, wincing as he rolled over and dragged his battered body up until he was sitting, propped against a chair. His eyes flashed as he aimed a big brother death glare at his idiotic sibling.

"I missed you too," Joe replied seeing the glint of relief in his brother's face despite his angry sounding words.

Frank's shoulders sagged as he dropped his head forward and closed his eyes with a sigh. He breathed deeply for a moment, wincing as he aggravated his bruising ribs, before looking up at his brother once again a look of exasperation crossing his features. Ruined by a crooked grin he couldn't suppress.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" he asked with a laugh.

"Honestly I'm hoping you're going to frog march me out of here and into the nearest burger joint..or force feed me Advil. Whichever you feel like doing first."

"How _are_ you feeling?" Frank asked, the fact that his own face was a mask of blood and bruises and his body was screaming at him forgotten in a moment as he eyed the weary form of Joe.

The amusement on Joe's face died for a split second as the veneer of humour and bravado cracked under the scrutiny of his older brother, allowing the bone shattering weariness his body was actually feeling to show through. He wanted nothing more than to be able to hit the deck and have Frank take over. But the Joe Hardy stubborn streak immediately kicked in as the brief thought of Frank facing off alone against the Marchettis crossed his mind and a grin broke out once again across his blood streaked face.

"Oh you know me dude, never better."

Frank cocked his head to the side, worry blossoming in his chest at the shattered look which had briefly shown in his brother's expression. Joe was a lot closer to his breaking point than he would ever admit to anyone and the strain was evident in the faint pain lines present around his eyes.

"OK," Frank said with a nod, knowing that the crack in Joe's mask would be the only admission of true feelings he was likely to get under their current circumstance. "So what next?"

"If what he says is true, and with Dante I have learned to accept him at his crazy ass word, then we are quickly running out of time before he has someone in here chewing on hot metal," Joe said, a frown marring his features.

"Right, Ezra isn't going to be able to storm the place without someone getting hurt...but this might force his hand, there may be no other way," Frank replied, his eyes glazing over slightly as he thought through their conundrum. "If we're going to act we have to do it soon."

Joe looked around the room, really seeing the faces of the scared people before him for what felt like the first time. Their wide eyed terror and tear streaked cheeks standing out in a sharper relief than they ever had before. A fire bubbled in his belly as his entire being fought against the idea of any of them losing the battle for life at the hands of the psychos running the joint.

Whipping his head to Dante's room, his eyes narrowed as he saw the Marchetti impromptu family gathering coming to a close and their time running out along with it.

"Frank, I think I might have a plan..."

* * *

Ezra breathed heavily as the sweat streamed down his face from under the protection of the heavy helmet and visor. A multitude of emotions writhed within him, each vying for his attention. Worry being chief amongst them. Worry for the hostages, worry for those Hardy kids but most of all the worry which comes with not knowing if you're doing the right thing.

Having conferred with the state police on the issue, it seemed the only course of action would be to storm the room. He knew it would likely result in casualties. People being wounded, or worse, killed. But they couldn't allow the Marchettis to walk free and they could not give into their demands. Without proper access to control the room, the only remaining course of action was to put those bastards down. Dante would be no threat in his current condition. One of the Marchettis was already dead and after their last scuffle, Joe had seen to it that Nick was out for the count as well. That left four of the lunatics.

Ezra had picked four of the most level headed recruits from the few officers he had remaining at the command centre. One for each Marchetti and himself to lead the assault. He couldn't risk sending more bodies into a meat grinder situation. They had to be able to not lose their cool when the shit hit the fan which it was definitely going to do. The last thing he needed was friendly fire.

Ezra grit his teeth and jogged just that little bit quicker upon thinking about the Marchetti scumbags. As much as he had been telling himself to remain calm, the one thing he wanted above all else was a shot at taking them down, and his pent up body was more than willing to go along with the deal.

The plan was to hit both sides of the wing. Only one of the doors was open but there was a chance Lance wasn't aware of that. Hitting the locked side would at least create a diversion so they could actually get some boots on the ground from the other entrance. A simple plan but the most effective under the circumstances. He had drilled it into the men keeping pace behind him.

Rolling his shoulders and gripping the almost reassuring weight of cold metal in his hands, Ezra narrowed his focus as they made their way across the building heading into hell.

* * *

I'm getting there..I'm close to wrapping this puppy up, I can feel it.

All comments and critiques welcomed as usual! Thanks for all your kind words so far.

(Think I need to say a quick thanks to hlahabibty for the line about killing and resurrecting Joe for Ezra too..it was inspired from one of your earlier reviews :D).


	17. Chapter 17

"No absolutely not Joe!" Frank said, his eyes flashing as he frowned at his brother, "I am not letting you do this."

"Frank c'mon we both know this is the only way we're going to be able to get these suckers to even think about doing something that we want them to do," Joe replied finding it a little hard to look at Frank at that moment. The stare he was receiving from his older brother was like a beam of heat.

Joe had spent the last few moments setting out his admittedly desperate plan and then the remaining time attempting to convince Frank it was the only way to go. They were running out of time and Dante would be running out of patience. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that they could have acted to prevent the loss of the life of one of the remaining hostages. He also knew his brother wouldn't be able to either and he sighed slightly as he wound himself up for what he knew was a low blow.

"Just look at their faces Frank."

The laser beam of brotherly concern was broken as Frank sagged under the undeniable truth of Joe's words. His head dropped slightly as his eyes flicked to the scared and frightened forms of the drained people in the room. He grit his jaw as the unfairness of the situation washed over him once again. Joe knew he had won, if you could call it winning, when Frank closed his eyes momentarily, heaving out a weary sigh.

"If you get yourself killed doing this Joe I am going to personally march into the afterlife so I can let you know _exactly_ how unimpressed I would be," he said, a frown marring his features as he stared at his brother evenly.

"I'm sure that would be the reason entirely and not just so you could say 'I told you so'," Joe said with a half grin, his attempt at humour falling somewhat flat under the current situation. "In any case, you're the one who's going to be in the line of fire for a while."

A look of worry crossed his face as he gazed at his older brother. He couldn't deny that the presence of Frank had instantly calmed him after the crazy day he'd been experiencing. But if it were possible to wish someone out of a situation he would do it in a heartbeat. The last place he wanted Frank to be was in the nut bin with him.

"Well if we're going to do this we need to do it fast," Frank said heading into professional mode, shaking off any misgivings he had about the plan in favour of giving it his fullest attentions. He glanced towards the ward where Lance was evidently talking over the latest development with Dante, the rest of his dwindling crew standing just outside of the doorway awaiting orders.

Nick had been taken to one of the adjoining office rooms to rest when Joe's latest ministrations had seen to it he'd be of no use for the rest of the job. His eyes had swollen almost shut after his already abused nose had taken another direct hit. That still left four walking, talking maniacs to deal with. Frank braced himself, setting his shoulders slightly before taking one last moment to nod to his brother.

"Move quickly."

"I plan to," Joe replied, his eyes narrowing as he also honed his focus on the job at hand. It was a simple plan and one which would leave them leaping from the fat into the fire. But it was the only one that he could think of that would leave them in a position of leverage and the only kind of leverage the Marchettis seemed to understand.

Joe steeled himself. The plan relied on Frank taking front and centre whilst he worked in the background, but he needed to be absolutely ready for the first opportunity to move. He dragged himself up to a sitting position, attempting to not draw attention to himself as he shook off the aches and pains and waited on Frank to start the show.

Frank took a deep breath before pulling himself to his feet. The eyes of the hostages snapped to him at the movement but they might as well have been behind a brick wall for all the notice he took of them as he focused on the game plan. He took a moment to assess just how beat he was before sending the pain to the back of his mind with an impatient shake of his head. He would deal with it later. Walking across the room he frowned as he approached Dante's ward and the sharks circling the tank.

Tony was the first to notice him, his face crumpling into a snarl as he brought his weapon up to meet him.

"Boss?"

Lance turned from his father's hospital bed, an eyebrow raised as he examined the young man before him.

"Can we help you?" he said, suspicion evident in his honey laced tone.

"I'm here to tell you what a mistake you're making," Frank began, secretly happy his voice had managed to come out on an even tone.

"Oh really?" Lance said, frowning at Frank, "and just how is it we're making that mistake?"

"I know the Chief. He's not going to give into your demands no matter what you do," Frank started. His mind whirred as thoughts of what he should say bounced around in his head. He was winging it plain and simple but he had to make it sound good.

"Is that so?" Lance said, "I think you're underestimating the lengths your chief will go to when I start putting bullets into bodies."

"He's not going to be able to be seen giving into the demands of terrorists," Frank replied, barely registering Lance's words, "all you're doing is express mailing your one way ticket to jail."

At these words Lance stepped forward, handing his weapon to Pietro with enough force to make him grunt.

"_Terrorists_ are we?" he said squaring up to young detective. Frank was by no means short or lacking in the muscle department, but the sheer bulk of Lance seemed to dwarf him.

"Well what is it you think you're doing here Lance? Throwing a picnic?" Frank said a little recklessly. If there was ever a time to channel Joe's smart mouth it was this one.

"I think you'll find what we're doing here Hardy, is making a perfectly reasonable demand to reunite our family," Lance said, unchecked anger now present in his voice. By this point he was looming over Frank, leaning down so his flashing eyes were mere centimetres from the detective's. The bulk of his body cast an impressive shadow over Frank in the ghostly lighting of the emergency lights.

Frank lifted his chin slightly in an unconscious movement attempting to make himself seem less intimidated. In truth, any feelings of intimidation were actually starting to dim as a surge of anger began bubbling inside of him. He was beginning to tire of Lance's macho act and though Frank seemed to be entirely crafted of patience in most situations, the culmination of the day's stresses and strains were beginning to wear on him. Good thing the plan was to have him acting any which way but patient.

He stepped into the tiny space that Lance had left when he had moved towards Frank, almost pressing his nose against the gigantic man's before him.

"_Reasonable _demand?" he hissed at Lance, allowing some of the fire within him to darken his features, "explain to me _exactly_ what part of today has been reasonable."

"Careful kid," Lance growled, eyes narrowing.

"Was it blowing away those guards who were doing nothing more than their job? Shooting the doctor, a man who has dedicated his life to helping others? Or beating the living snot out of my _brother_?" At his last word a little fleck of spit flew from his mouth and landed unceremoniously on Lance's cheek where it glistened in a taunting fashion. Frank hadn't meant to get so emotionally riled up, but the memory of seeing his banged up little brother tipped his bubbling pot of anger right over.

Still, he had to pause a moment, chest heaving, as he considered the brute of a man standing in front of him. Lance had stood bristling as Frank had railed and ranted. But the moment the spittle hit his face he had grown stone still. His glowering face growing ever darker as he lowered his head in barely suppressed rage.

Without any preamble he whipped his hand up and backhanded Frank full in the face, throwing his head to a side with a grunt. Frank saw red for a moment and used the distraction of his own movement to bring his now balled fist back in an answering blow which left an instant welt on Lance's cheek.

Snarling in anger, Lance whipped up both his hands and placed them around Frank's neck. The younger man startled into action gripped Lance around the wrists in an attempt to remove his grip and lessen the pressure. This proved to be an impossible task so Frank switched up his tactics and wrapped his own fingers around Lance's tree trunk of a throat, feeling the tight muscles tense in response under his grip.

Both parties grunted with effort as they each wrestled to gain the upper hand. Despite his size, Lance struggled slightly against his wiry opponent, his sweaty palms slipping slightly under the onslaught. As he shifted his fingers for a better grip in order to squeeze the life out of Frank, the attentions of both men were suddenly taken by a loud shout from behind them.

"ENOUGH!" Joe was planted a ways away from the action, happening to stand in a pool of the emergency lighting which glinted off the shiny metal of the pistol he held in his hand. A pistol which was pressed none too gently against the temple of a struggling Abigail.

Lance froze, his hands still around Frank's neck but with no actual pressure being applied. The look of shock and outrage on his face almost comical. As Frank had taken up the attention of everyone in the room with his display of shouting, Joe had used the moment to make a head long dash into the office where the bodies of the unfortunate guards had been unceremoniously dumped. Having passed through there what felt like a lifetime ago he had noticed that their guns had been thrown into a pile next to where they lay, limbs awkwardly contorted in death.

His simple, but admittedly foolhardy plan, was to get Frank to make a scene whilst he retrieved one of their pistols in order to take his own hostage for leverage. If the Marchettis understood one thing it was a threat to one of their own. Abbie had been closest to the door where he had exited. Luckily for him. He didn't know if he had enough strength left to have subdued one of the more muscle bound members of the crew.

As it happened he was having a hard enough time keeping the fiery brunette under control. Until he pressed the gun against her head with a little more pressure to stop her flailing.

"Hardy, what the HELL do you think you're doing?" Lance said, his eyes narrowing as he eyed Joe who's stony expression spoke volumes. He was pissed, and prone to extremes. At least that's what Joe hoped his face was saying. In truth he was waging an internal battle with his repulsion of hand guns and the disgust he was feeling at himself for pointing one at another human being.

"I'm speaking the only language you seem to know Lance," Joe said, his voice dangerously quiet. "Now take your hands off my brother and step the _hell_ back."

Lance paused for a moment, eyes flicking to the weapon pressed against his sister's face before taking a slow step back and raising his hands slightly to show his intention.

Frank swiftly crossed the room to stand by his brother, his expression matching Joe's making them appear to be almost twins in the darkened lighting of the room.

Lance lowered his hands slowly, his face twisting with anger. He took a look behind him at the guns of Tony and Pietro trained on the Hardys.

"Now what kid?" he said, his voice barely controlled in his obvious rage, "there seems to be a bit of a conflict of interests here."

"No," Joe said, his voice sounding lethal as he eyed the men in front of him evenly, "I'd say we have exactly the same interests actually."

"Excuse me if I don't follow," Lance replied.

"You want Abbie here in one piece I take it?" Joe said, the coldness of his tone startling Frank although he made sure not to show it. "I'd like each and every one of the people in here in the same state and out from under your nose."

"You think I'm going to give up my only leverage just for her?" Lance said, grinning manically although the humour not quite reaching his eyes.

"I think that's exactly what you're going to do Lance."

For a split second something crossed Lance's expression which he quickly tried to hide. Desperation. Joe was completely right when he'd told his brother that the only thing the Marchettis would respond to was a threat against their family. Lance had already lost one member today and, despite the macho act he was trying to put on under the circumstances, he was clearly petrified of losing another. He quickly regained his composure, however, and straightened up slightly. Determination on his face.

"Fine, they can go," Lance said, drawing small gasps of hope from the hostages still crowding the room. "But you and your brother, you stay."

Joe's heart thumped in his chest as he fought to keep his nerve and paused for a moment as if in contemplation before answering with a brief, curt nod. He and Frank were at the point in the plan which Joe had labelled 'the just wing it' phase. Lance being prepared to release the hostages was a better outcome than they'd hoped for and Joe didn't need to even look at Frank to know that trading themselves in for the lives of so many was an offer they'd accept in a heartbeat.

"No!"

The unexpected voice tearing through the pin drop silence of the room made all the parties jump and turn their heads in an almost practised unison. Mary was on her feet, anger on her face as she eyed up the men before her.

"I'm not letting you boys do that for me, I'm not a pawn to be passed around thank you very much. I've seen too much happen to you today to leave you in the hands of these _lunatics _in good conscience," she said heartily, panting with the fervour of her words.

"Mary," Joe began, his eyes widening in a slight panic as he took in the diminutive yet fearless lady standing alone in the centre of the room.

"Don't you Mary me young man. I have taken care of you and your brother more times than I care to think about and I cannot stand to see you left to their devices."

"That goes for me too." Both Joe and Frank's shoulders sagged in time as the plucky form of Maria sprang up to stand next to Mary in a united front against the Marchettis. Mary didn't break her gaze with the men before her but a half smile crossed her face as Maria grasped for her hand.

Joe gaped slightly, looking towards Frank for the first time with literally no clue what to do next. At that moment, when the room had frozen in a tense deadlock, two things happened simultaneously. The east entrance to the department suddenly exploded with noise and flashing lights as gunshots mingled with the throaty yells of what seemed like an army of people outside of the door.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Lance grabbed Tony's weapon and lunged towards the two women, grabbing Maria across her neck and pulling her in front of him with the gun pointing to her face. Mary staggered slightly as she was shoved to the side, the room clouding with the sounds of screams mingled with the gun fire and shouting from the outside hallway. She shook herself off a moment before fixing a glare at the towering man and launching herself towards him, raining blows onto the thick set muscles of his arm.

Lance considered her for a moment, her punches more an obvious annoyance than anything, before turning the weapon and shooting her in the chest.

Frank and Joe looked on in horror, a mingled "NO!" issuing from both of their mouths as Mary stepped back, a look of eternal surprise crossing her face before she crumpled to the ground, a gurgle sticking in her throat as she tried to catch a breath.

"Pietro, get pops into his go kart, it's time we went on a little adventure," Lance barked at his cousin, not even batting an eyelid as Maria broke down into tears at the sight of Mary heaving her last breaths. "Tony, cover the door, shoot anything that moves."

The confusion of sounds continued from the corridors as Tony crossed the room, opening the door a crack before sending a hail of bullets down the western hallway.

"There's someone down there boss!" he shouted towards Lance between barrages before fixing his attentions on the shadowy figures just beyond his reach.

"What do you boys say about taking this little Mexican stand-off to a fresher venue?" Lance said, his eyes flashing as he hovered the now smoking barrel of his gun at the temple of the crying nurse in his arms. Maria grit her teeth, choking back her sobs as she looked into the eyes of the Hardys apologising with her every fibre for the mess they were now all in.

Frank glanced at his brother who nodded in desperation. His heart felt like ice as he glanced at the now still form of Mary. Blood blossoming on her blouse. They needed to get the gun shots as far away from the remaining hostages as was possible.

"Boss!" The now slightly frantic voice of Tony pierced the room as the shadowy figures in the distant hallways began making a move to surge towards the department entrance.

Walking backwards, the gun still pressed to Maria's head, Lance barged past Tony and yelled into the now slightly quieter hallway.

"HEY CHIEF!"

A moment of blessed silence filled the air before the gruff voice of Ezra echoed down the corridor.

"Lance?"

"I got a gun to the head of this pretty young thing before me here Chief, would be a shame if I had to give her a new haircut now wouldn't it?" Lance yelled back, the whites of his eyes seeming huge as they bugged slightly out of his head. He was losing control of the situation. Looking at the veins standing out on Lance's neck, Frank didn't know if that could be considered a good thing.

"The time for negotiation is over Lance, face it you've lost."

At this Lance stepped into the hallway using Maria as a human shield.

"OK then Chief, so shoot me." Tears ran silently down Maria's face as her wide eyes shone in the white lights of the hall. A group of blackened, armoured figures huddled behind various pieces of furniture and equipment that littered the corridor. Her gaze roamed over the silent bodies of the fallen scouts lying on the blood soaked floor and her breath hitched as a sob ripped from her chest. She was more afraid than she had ever been in her life.

"That's what I thought," Lance said his words knifing through the tense atmosphere. "This is what's going to happen next. My family is going to move out behind me. You can have your cattle, but the girl and those bastard Hardys are coming with me."

"Lance.." the voice of the Chief broke out, a warning in his tone.

"DO YOU WANT HER TO DIE CHIEF?" Lance yelled, drool flying freely from his mouth and glistening on his chin.

In the answering moments of silence Lance panted, daring anyone to say something.

"I thought not." With a flick of his head, Lance motioned to Tony and Pietro who were stood behind the motionless forms of the Hardys. Joe's gun still pointing at Abbie's head.

They herded the boys before them, hatred beaming like a missile directly at their faces. Nick followed behind, pushing the walrus like form of Dante, now confined to a wheelchair. Sweat poured off his face as he clutched his bandaged stump to his chest, blood showing through the gauze.

Lance began to slowly walk backwards following his family as he dead eyed the officers still crouching at the end of the hallway, his stare seeming to linger even as they group turned a corner out of the eye line of the supposed rescue party.

"You two, in with the hostages. I want a medic team in here asap to deal with whatever fallout these assholes have left us with," Ezra barked at the two officers on his right before turning to his left to address his remaining troops. "You two, with me."

Counting to ten in his head the Chief slowly lead the way forward down the hall, determined to follow this mess right to its end conclusion.

* * *

So I just finished writing this beast tonight and I'm quite happy with how it turned out! I reckon there's maybe another two chapters to go and we're done.

Thanks to everyone who is taking the time to review. The critiques are tending to come from guests so I can't reply personally but I promise I do consider your words and I'm attempting to apply some things to my writing. Hopefully it will show.

As always, all comments and critiques are appreciated!


	18. Chapter 18

Frank led the way, conscious of the footfalls of his brother behind him mingling with the sounds of the Marchettis following in quick step pursuit. He took a moment to glance over at Joe whose mouth was set in a grim determination though his eyes were shining slightly. Mary's death had happen so fast neither of them could have done a thing to prevent it. But from the expression on Joe's face and the feeling in his own heart, that fact would do nothing to quell the guilt both brothers were obviously carrying.

Frank walked aimlessly in a daze, jumping slightly as Lance barked an order from the back of the procession.

"Take a left Hardy, I feel the need for some fresh air."

Frank frowned, confused until he turned a corner and saw the service door in front of him. Pushing through he was confronted with the sight of darkened hallways lined with pipes and vents and other apparatus which was essential to keep the hospital running behind the scenes. Straight ahead of him was another door, this time with cracks of sunlight peeking through the gaps around the edges. Frank raised an eyebrow, pushing through and blinking in the sudden brightness of the outside world. Finally it made sense. The door led onto the roof of one of the hospital's many floors.

"Tony, Pietro, cover the entrance," Lance bit out, pushing the still crying form of Maria ahead of him.

He moved until he was stood across from Joe who held his own weapon to the glowering face of Abigail.

"And here I thought you were one of the good guys," she spat out, venom lacing her words.

"Yeah? Well I thought _you _were a nurse," Joe replied distractedly as he snapped an unwavering focus onto the giant man before him, dwarfing the distraught woman in his grasp.

Frank moved a little closer to Joe, his gaze fixing on Lance as well as he furiously tried to figure out their next move. He took a moment to breathe a deep lungful of the fresh, outside air. He hadn't realised how stifling the hospital ward had become until that very moment.

"So, now what?" Joe said, his voice cold once more as he compartmentalised his reaction to the last half hour's events.

"You give me Abigail and I'll consider letting this little doe eyed doe leave with her life," Lance said motioning with his head towards Maria. Tears streamed down her face silently but her eyes spoke only of anger and hate. She was done being scared.

"What's to say you don't just put a bullet into all of us the second we hand over your sister?" Frank asked, fists unconsciously balling. What he wanted more than anything was to wipe the crazy right off Lance's face.

"Nothing." The men snapped their heads towards the panting form of Dante as he barked out the word between gasps. "There's not a thing to say that that's exactly what will happen. Apart from my word."

"Your...word.." Joe said incredulously. "Your word means nothing Dante. Your family has killed and killed and killed again today without so much as a second thought. But you _promise_ you're not going to shoot us right? Good, well now I feel comforted."

"Watch your mouth," Lance began before Dante raised his good hand, silencing him.

"I want my daughter, you want the nurse. Hand Abbie over and I give my word to you as a Marchetti that we will leave this place and no harm will come to you or her." At these words, Dante eyed the young men before him with an unwavering stare. Daring them to contradict him but also cementing the truth behind his statement.

Frank looked between the old lion and the straining form of his brother. Dante was sick but danger still crashed off him in waves. Joe's shoulder muscles were visibly shuddering now as the stress he was putting on them holding both Abbie and the pistol for so long was beginning to show. They were running out of time. Maybe the best course was to finally admit defeat and let the Marchettis go before they lost their patience and mowed down everybody on the rooftop.

Just as he was about to intervene a shout of surprise from Tony drew his attention. More gunfire began erupting from the maintenance hall beyond the door. It looked like the Chief had finally re-joined the party.

It seemed to happen in slow motion although in reality it was the work of moments. A hail of bullets tore through the doorway, clipping both Tony and Pietro as they returned fire at the officers storming the roof. Tony fell to the side, blood spewing from his arm and Pietro crumpled to the floor as the leg which took a bullet folded up beneath him. Three officers, including the unmistakable form of the Chief, poured through the door. The first officer wrestled with the limping but snarling form of Nick who had launched himself at the man with a scream of primal rage as his family had hit the floor bleeding.

The Chief and his comrade headed straight for the meat of the problem.

At that moment, whilst Lance's attentions had been thoroughly taken up by the commotion, Maria sank her teeth viciously into the arm which was now loosely clutching her around her chin. She gagged slightly as blood filled her mouth but her actions drew the desired effect. Lance roared as he instinctively threw her to the side, dropping his weapon as he grasped at his now freely bleeding arm. Maria hit the ground with a bone jarring thud which knocked the air from her lungs. The sound of the gun clattering down behind her drew her out of her daze and she flailed her legs, successfully clipping the gun and sending it skidding across the roof.

"You bitch!" he screamed at her, looking for a moment like he might launch himself at her and kill her with his bare hands. The forms of the Chief and his fellow officer rushing up towards the group with their own weapons drawn stopped him in his tracks and an animalistic snarl broke from his mouth as he fixed his attentions on them.

Whirling, a vicious sneer still ripping across his face, he fixed a murderous gaze upon Joe.

"Noo!" Frank yelled as Lance threw himself at the younger Hardy quicker than he could react.

Joe didn't have a moment to say anything to stop him and the shock froze on his face as Lance rushed at him like a train made of muscle. Lance lowered his shoulder and with another raging snarl, launched Joe clear across the roof where he hit the ground with an audible grunt and lay still, dazed.

Lance bent forward and grabbed Joe's pistol in one hand as he stood protectively in front of the fallen form of Abbie who had crashed to the ground along with Joe. Lance raised the gun without preamble and pointed it straight into the dismayed face of Frank. He was distantly aware of the Chief screaming garbled words from what felt like miles away as the muzzle stood out in sharp relief and took up his entire field of vision.

He flinched when Lance, face free of emotion, pulled the trigger.

The sound of strained laughter broke across the rooftop in the moments of silence which followed. Lance slowly turned his head to look at Joe, still lying on the floor, who laughed that much harder at the confusion spreading across the man's face.

"You didn't think I would actually point a loaded weapon at another person now did you Lance?" he said, attempting to sit up and visibly wincing as his back muscles protested with a shudder.

"What..?" Frank spluttered slightly as he looked from Lance to his brother, heart pounding in his ears in a mockery of the weapon in front of him.

"It's not loaded?" Lance said, looking at the pistol with a completely blank expression.

"No," Joe said coldly, "because I'm not insane enough to skip through my day putting bullets in people's faces."

There was another clatter as the gun fell to the ground, slipping from Lance's slackened hand as he lowered his arms to his sides in a daze. The Chief stepped forward taking out heavy duty cuffs and placing them on Lance's limp wrists none too gently.

"Oh you so have the right to remain silent. Asshole."

Frank glanced over to where Nick and one of the officers had been wrestling as his life had flashed before his eyes, to see the injured Marchetti being pinned to the ground, his own wrists clamped into cuffs behind his back.

Tony and Pietro lay on the floor groaning and gripping at their respective wounds as they waited their turn to be trussed.

Frank's gaze roamed over to the now empty chair where Dante had been sitting. He felt his stomach drop as his mind finally registered this fact with shock. He looked wildly around the rooftop before calling out to the retreating form of Ezra who was marching Lance in front of him.

"Chief..."

"Hardy?"

"Dante. He's gone."

* * *

So nearly there!...

Thanks as always for the support. All comments and critiques are very welcome.


	19. Chapter 19

Frank limped to his brother and slowly lowered himself to the ground with a bump and a hiss. He was very much feeling every ache and pain in his body at that moment. The adrenaline which had kept him moving for most of the day had finally had the chance to disperse. The trade off was knowing the precise location of each and every cut and bruise he had obtained. He licked at the drying blood on his split lip and hissed once again.

The moment he had alerted the Chief to Dante's disappearing act, the rooftop had become a whirlwind of movement. Ezra finally felt enough control to get every reserve member of the force onto the scene to contain it. They had combed the area but in the time it had taken to get the rest of the officers onto the roof, Dante had managed to use the distraction of the team's hero shot to melt away. Presumably off into the sunset.

Frank glanced over the rooftop which had now calmed to a slow simmer of activity. He noted the blanket being placed around the still seated form of Maria by a medical personal who then knelt to deal with the still angry looking burn on her cheek. She turned her head towards the brothers, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she tried to communicate a thanks without words, the effect ruined slightly by the tears still leaking from her eyes. From the corner of his eye, Frank saw Joe nodding a thanks in return. Maria had helped him get back onto his feet and her bravery would not be forgotten for a long while.

Frank pulled an arm across his aching ribs in an attempt to sooth them as he shifted his position, trying to find a way to sit which didn't hurt. An apparently impossible task. He took a moment to look over Joe who's face was tense with obvious pain, purplish marks of exhaustion standing out against his pale, dirt and blood streaked face like bruises under his eyes. He shifted again, just enough to be able to press a leg against his brother's, instinctively knowing that Joe would appreciate even such a small level of contact. In truth he needed it too. The feelings of despair he had felt over that long day in regards to Joe may have felt like a distant memory in that moment, but they were still raw in his mind.

"Looks like family is cheaper than freedom huh?" Frank said to his brother as they watched paramedics treating Tony, Nick and Pietro with officers stood by waiting for the moment they could wheel them off to the big house. Abbie had been rounded up with little fuss, only pausing to shoot an ice cold stare in the direction of Joe before her head had dropped in defeat.

"Problem is," Joe replied, his voice thick with weariness, "he cut off his own had just to get his chance at freedom. Imagine the lengths he's going to go to to get this lot out from behind bars."

Frank considered his brother's words for a moment, fear squeezing his heart as the truth rang in them. "I imagine security around them is going to be a bit tighter than it was for him after all this."

All this. Two small words which suddenly seemed heavy with the weight of just how many people they'd lost that day at the hands of the ruthless family. Frank saw Joe's head drop from the corner of his eye as the same feelings overwhelmed him. He threw what was meant to be a comforting arm around Joe's shoulders until he felt the muscles spasm beneath his touch.

Joe grit his teeth as his back protested but he still leaned into the half hug. The memory of Mary hitting the ground playing in a stark replay through his mind. He felt his eyes begin to close by themselves as the continued beatings his body had taken over the course of the day crashed down in a wave of pain and fatigue which he'd successfully held back until that moment with sheer stubbornness of will. He swooned, suddenly leaning heavily now into Frank. He was thoroughly burnt out.

"Hey little brother, keep those peepers open," Frank said, a look of concern flashing across his face.

"M'tired," Joe half slurred back. He attempted to shake himself alert at the worry he heard in Frank's voice, but the rooftop had taken on a sudden dream like quality as his broken body felt like it was floating, his vision tunneling.

Frank looked around, relaxing somewhat as he saw two EMTs heading their direction carrying their on site response bags. As one knelt alongside him, he attempted to wave off her ministrations in favour of seeing to Joe first.

"My buddy over there has got your brother sir, and if you don't mind me saying so, you look like crap," she said, putting a hand firmly onto his waving arm.

Frank froze at her touch, seeing she was right and Joe, who had now lain down onto his back with an arm across his eyes, was getting a thorough examination by her colleague. She was right about another thing too. He felt dead on his feet. Finally, he succumbed to her gently probing fingers and swallowed his protest. He suppressed a snort at the thought that they would both in all likelihood be due a visit to a hospital shortly. The last place he wanted to see was the inside of a hospital ever again.

* * *

Joe heaved a deep breath, taking a moment to enjoy being by himself. Since he and Frank had been treated in the aftermath of the hostage drama, at Bayport hospital's nearest sister site, it felt like they'd not had a moment alone. Granted it wasn't so long since they'd been almost killed on their last case, but as he'd continued to point out, at least neither of them had been shot this time round. A fact which had neither pleased nor mollified his mother who'd henpecked the brothers to within an inch of their lives. Not that he wasn't grateful for her attentions, or Vanessa's who'd been equally distraught and worried to hear of their latest adventure. But it was getting a tad stifling.

Now four days on from the concluding rooftop drama, he found himself outside of a door leading to yet another ward. It was beginning to feel like he would forever be walking the hallways of hospitals. He tapped on it quietly so as to not startle the occupant before heading inside at the breathy "come in?"

Joe opened the door and entered the darkened room, the smile lighting up his face at the sight of Doctor Edwards dispelling most of the gloom. The good doctor looked like hell it was true. But Joe was entirely pleased to see that he was very much alive if not very awake.

"Joe!" Doctor Edwards said as he clapped eyes on the young man entering the room.

"Hey doc, I heard you were up and at them again so I figured I'd come drop in and say hi," Joe said, carefully stepping around what looked to be a mountain of cards, gifts and flowers from well wishers which littered the ward.

"From my family," the doctor said breathlessly, motioning with his head at the gigantic pile, "and the nurses, and just about anyone else who works in the hospital."

He was currently propped up in a bed in the ward where he had been flown to on the day of the stand off. The main hospital was now back up and running, though the third floor was very much off limits due to ongoing investigations, but it had been deemed too soon to be moving him back to a local bed for a good while yet to come.

"Well what do you expect dude, you're a hero," Joe said with a sad grin. The doctor was a genuinely good guy and it had pained him to see him take a bullet.

"Nah not me," he replied shaking his head slowly so as not to jolt his wounds, "I think that title entirely rests with you and your brother."

He took a moment then to really look at the downtrodden young man before him. Joe's face was pretty beat up although a couple of butterfly bandages seemed to be just about holding him together. His arm was in a sling and strapped across his chest in an attempt to limit function and give his shoulder time to recuperate. But it was in his eyes that the Doctor saw the rawest wound. Dark circles spoke of little sleep and they shone a little too bright in the low light of the room.

"Not sleeping huh?" he asked.

"Oh you know me Doc, I'm fine," Joe replied with a grin which masked the sadness he'd let slip into his expression.

"Joe."

With that one quiet word the doctor broke through that mask, and Joe's head fell as he tried to compose himself.

"It's just hard you know," he said so quietly the doctor had to lean towards him slightly to hear. "So many deaths."

The police headquarters had been a sombre place to visit over the last few days as he and his brother had had gone back and forth to give statements and tie up loose ends. The pain he was feeling was reflected on each of the men and women in the station and in the eyes of his own brother. But the worst was in Ezra. The Chief had taken each and every death entirely to heart and it was going to take a long time and a lot of therapy to help him through those bleak twenty four hours. Joe shook himself, bringing his focus back to the room and suppressing the dark thoughts. He would address them at some point but right now was a time for celebrating the fact that his doctor and friend had pulled through.

He raised his head again, surprising the doctor with the strength of the smile that broke through.

"Plenty of time for that later," he said pointing at his restricted arm. "You and me are going to be going on a lot more dates over the next few months if your current stand in is right about my stupid shoulder."

The doctor shook his head slightly as he marvelled at his charge. He knew Joe was going to have to confront what had happened at some point but he had no doubt that both his mind and his body would heal over time. The fact that the progress of his shoulder's therapy being knocked back a few months didn't seem to faze him was testament enough to that. He knew it was going to be a long and probably very bumpy road ahead of them, after the abuse it had suffered the wound was probably back at square one, but he was more than willing to push as hard as Joe obviously was. Just as soon as he was done healing himself.

The smile on his face grew a little smaller as a gust of fatigue blew over him. He was still prone to falling asleep mid conversation being so fresh out of the operating theatre. Joe seeing this stood and offered his hand before making to leave.

"I'll leave you in peace for now Doc. You gotta get back onto your feet soon though. Your replacement is a real butthole," he said as the doctor grasped his good hand and shook it.

"Don't worry about me Joseph," he replied sleepily, his eyes closing slowly in the gloom, "I'm Iron Man."

* * *

So we're mostly done! I was dissatisfied with the story finishing at 19 chapters, it just seemed uncouth to not knock it up to twenty. So I wrote an epilogue (one which I didn't actually know I needed until it was down on paper).

Thanks so much for the continued support. As always, all comments and critiques are very much welcome.


	20. Epilogue

Frank pottered through his quiet apartment as he sleepily headed to the kitchen to grab himself some breakfast. It was already past noon, he noted with a dull shock. His sleeping habits had grown a little slovenly whilst he and his brother were once again on enforced sick leave. It was fine, he'd sort his body clock closer to the time when they were due back in the office. Right now he was absolutely a-OK with being lazy. He leaned back into a huge, toe curling stretch, wincing slightly as his still aching muscles protested his movement.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he reached up to the cereal cupboard, grabbing at the muesli. He half grinned to himself, shaking his head as he knocked over Joe's emergency box of Froot Loops. His brother had insisted he stocked 'real cereal and not that rabbity crap' for the frequent nights he ended up staying over and demanded feeding come the morning.

Frank bent down to grab a bowl when something dropping through the letter box at the front door of his apartment caught his eye. He raised an eyebrow as he realised it was an envelope.

Padding forward to the entranceway he bent down and picked up the white, nondescript mail from the floor. A flourish of writing showed it to be for the attentions of himself and his brother. Thoroughly confused as to why he would be getting mail addressed to both he and Joe, Frank peered through the peep hole of his door and saw nothing but an empty hallway beyond. Shrugging he opened the envelope, his blood running cold as he saw what was inside.

It was a simple card by all appearances. Completely white and devoid of decoration save for the silhouette of a black...and very obviously dead rose. Not entirely sure why it had chilled him so much but trusting his instincts, he opened the card with trepidation.

Get well soon

- D x

Frank closed the card slowly, looking up with unfocused eyes, receiving the message loud and clear.

This wasn't over.

* * *

Ok, so I am finally actually done this time! Like I said previously, the epilogue was something of an accident and a way to round off the chapters..but I quite enjoy the possibility of revisiting the family in the future.

Thank you so much to every one who has reviewed this story. It's the longest one I have written and was a bit of a mammoth task (especially since I failed to actually plan the whole plot from the beginning as usual and winged my way through huge chunks of it...I need to get out of that habit). To all my guest reviewers, thanks as well, I can't actually reply to you personally.

I hope you enjoyed the ride!


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